Loveless
by Chameleon Eyes
Summary: She pushed him away to protect their cherished past. She hurt him. She hurt herself more without realizing it. After two and a half years of invisible solitude and bitter resentment, Zelda realizes she's miserable without Link, and embarks on a journey to become a part of his life again while learning the lessons of kindness, friendship and love. Zelink. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**_This is to all the misfits, the outcasts, the lonely, the socially awkward and the depressed in the world. _**

**I hope I make you laugh in this roller-coaster ride of a story.  
**

* * *

**Loveless**

_by Chameleon Eyes_

**~ 1 ~  
**

* * *

Under the shade of the weeping willows, I sat with my legs extended and crossed at the ankles, my back lazily against the huge trunk of the tree. Through the hanging leaves, I could see a few of my classmates running in the field chasing a soccer ball. Their cheers burst through my leafy barrier, annoying me slightly as I rustled the pages of my book.

A blur of white and red whizzed past my head, ricocheting from the tree trunk. I dropped the book immediately, my heart still pounding as I reassured myself that I didn't get hit with the soccer ball, like the many times in gym class. It stood a few feet away from me.

Now, a normal person would've picked the ball up and toss it to the kids playing it. But I'm not normal, nor am I extraordinary. Instead of doing what a normal person would do, I picked up my book and continued where I left off, tuning out the noise around me. I consider myself abnormal, with an odd taste in fashion sense and hobbies, and with a reasonable distaste for my classmates.

They hollered their rude remarks with the civility of city drivers. I ignored them, pretending I was deaf. I guess some of them believed I was mute since I never spoke in class and was uninterested in all their gossip and small talk. Perhaps they didn't know who sat in the concealment of leaves, because their shouting continued until one of them entered my floral domain to retrieve it.

As usual, I didn't look up to see who broke my barrier between them and me. Whoever it was, I expected to hear a rude remark commenting my appearance and behaviour, or to get the ball and dash out of the trees. Instead, the presence lingered, and I was curious to see who it was. _Just a subtle glance._ From the corner of my eye I could see lean legs and a pair of size fourteen sneakers. _Very_ familiar sneakers. They were worn, tainted with paint and grass stains.

My stupid head looked up immediately, wanting to catch a glimpse of the boy I fell in love with years ago.

"Hey, Zelda," he smiled warmly.

_Link._

I looked away from his dashing face, hating the heat creeping up my neck. The thought of blushing before him embarrassed me, and the inevitable redness lit up my face like a Christmas light.

I buried my face into my book, hoping to find sanctuary to hide my blooming blush.

"How are you today?" He asked.

Whatever effort he had, he persisted in trying to get me to speak. I clamped my mouth shut, my eyes skimming the text across a page. I wasn't actually reading. I was too distracted to do anything but cast all my concentration to appear uninterested. My already warm face felt like it grew hotter as his eyes watched me with amusement.

"Not in the mood to talk, I take it?" He asked.

My eyes flashed up at him, and I snapped, "I was never in the mood to talk." Then I returned to reading a random sentence.

The whines of adolescents called for Link.

"Better get back to your friends," I muttered.

He laughed, as if I told him the funniest joke he had ever heard. He stood there, thinking that I would say something more, but gave up when all he got was an earful of silence. He trotted off.

I sighed in relief when his legs left my vision.

What happened to us? In middle school we were the closest of friends, inseparable, two peas in a pod, the masters of mischief and good fun. We were the opposites of each other, but that didn't stop us from getting along. His strengths were my weaknesses. My strengths were his weaknesses. I struggled to befriend people, but he opened my outer shell and let everyone see who was beneath. He struggled with school, and I tutored him in all the classes we had, helping him earn the As that he wanted. We always got through tough times together, always survived the things that hurt us the most.

We went everywhere, did everything together. We swam in any body of water, attended school dances, experienced new foods, played together. He taught me how to kick a soccer ball, many hits landing on some part of him and missing the goal, but we laughed until our stomachs hurt anyway. I taught him how to paint, no matter how bad an artist he was, we still had fun when we splashed the canvas and made a mess.

The red paint was still on his shoes, I noticed. He never threw them out, and he always wore them every day, even on that terrible day when our friendship fell apart.

It was the last day of school. With the end of middle school, new responsibilities and opportunities waited before my eyes. Everything changed so fast, and high school would start in fall.

In the school dance, he and I were partners. I remember everything. I was dressed in a simple purple dress that flowed right below the knees. My hair was in an elaborate bun my mother styled. Uncomfortable heels were exchanged with black flats. He was dressed in his handsome two-piece suit, his dirty sneakers ruining the appearance of sophistication.

When he came through the door, my stomach swallowed my heart and cartwheeled inside. My palms became sweaty, I blushed, and my knees were unstable and jittering. Suddenly I felt self-conscious, and I felt like I would fall to the floor right then and there, embarrassing myself even further.

It didn't look like he noticed anything out of the ordinary. He complimented me with a casual "Zelda, you look good today", further reddening my face. I stuttered a thank you, he took my hand, we walked through the door, into the car and left the comfort of my home. Awkward silence shrouded me, and I nervously fidgeted to look like I wasn't doing anything, that I wasn't listening. The only people talking were my mother and Link, the polite talk between a mother and her daughter's "date".

"You excited for high school next year?" She asked a little too cheerily.

He laughed that contagious laugh. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like laughing along with him.

"Yeah, I'm afraid all the girls will be chasing me now that I've had a growth spurt," he joked.

He grew taller? He used to be one of the shortest boys in our class, and I felt confident when I towered over him.

I glanced quickly towards him to see if this was true. He _did _look taller, even sitting down…

The car lurched left, and my body tilted and fell on him. The heat went back to my cheeks at the warm contact.

"S—sorry," I replied, pulling my body off of him and imbedding it to the car door. "That won't happen again."

Suspicion flashed across his face, but he smiled one of his dazzling smiles as if it weren't a big deal. "It's okay, Zelda."

My mother pulled the car into a parking lot. She wished us luck, encouraged us to skip after parties because of dangerous drugs, and—most of all—to have fun.

I gulped when she kicked me out of the car with Link. My heart continued beating two hundred beats per minute when he clutched my hand and led me to the entrance.

"This party will be the most boring event of the year," he said. "I don't know why your mother was making such a big fuss about this_. Look._ The decorations are Dollar Store banners and balloons without helium!"

He expected me to laugh, or to respond with a witty comment like I usually did. I shuddered instead.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

I looked up at him, regretting it immediately. Why did he look so good from down here?

"No," I replied quickly, looking at my feet. They looked so small against his…

He shrugged off his black suit jacket and put it over my shoulders. I flinched at the touch, moving away as if I touched fire, and almost tripped over my feet.

I regained balance, feeling hotness on my face. I had to hide its red flag. I had to get out of there. Without an explanation for him, I turned and ran.

I didn't know where I was running. I wanted to get out of there, to escape the awkward silence between us. I was making a fool of myself right before my friend's eyes.

_Friends? You want something more, don't you?_

_No. We're just friends. _

Just friends? Friends don't blush when they high-five each other, dream about doing the things couples do, feel self-conscious when they're in each others' presence.

I stopped, panting. I was at the park, and no one was there at night. The swing set appeared comfortable, so I took a seat and thought about my weird behaviour that night.

Just as Link appeared, I came to the conclusion that I _did_ want to be more than friends with him.

"Zelda!" He shouted. "Why did you run off? You worried me!"

He walked towards me. I said nothing, but tears came to my eyes. I struggled to keep them hidden, but my chest shuddered and a sob escaped.

He sensed my distress and kneeled down on the park sand, not minding if his newly bought trousers got dirty.

"What's wrong?"

It's nothing.

"Zelda, c'mon, tell me."

No, really, it's nothing.

"Zelda?" He placed his hands on my lap.

"It's nothing!" I cried out, and then thought _it really is something. _"I don't want to—," I gasped, attempting to still the sobs interrupting my sentences. "I just don't want—don't want to hang out anymore," I said quietly.

He said nothing for a moment. Then he laughed, thinking that this was one of my silly pranks I pulled. I didn't join in.

"You're joking, right?"

"No," I said.

What came next surprised me. He smiled warmly at me, like he always had. But his eyes did not match his smile. They were heartbroken.

"I guess you need some alone time. I'll stay out of your way, Zelda." He started to walk away, but he looked back and said, "Zelda, I will always be your friend. Even if we're not hanging out."

This time I was heartbroken. _Always friends?_

I wanted to call him back, to reveal my true feelings, but he was nowhere in sight. I sighed, kicking the sand with my bare feet. I will tell him over the summer, I decided.

I never did tell him my true feelings.

That summer, I stayed in my house, avoiding any possibility of Link. It was hard. He was my neighbour, so I saw him when I glanced out the window, my heart stupidly fluttering whenever I saw a glimpse of golden hair. I reminded myself, _just friends. _But the thought made my heart ache. I reasoned with myself, my stubborn side flourishing with the idea to prove a point to him. If we can't be more than friends, than I don't want to be friends.

Without him, I delved deeper into despair. He was the only person I ever hung out with. We were so close together in friendship that I didn't feel a need to befriend others. He was what saved me from becoming detached with the world, from becoming overly cynical. My snarky attitude emerged, and my parents got irritated with me. They thought I had become antisocial, and so they sent me to therapy. The _worst _kind of therapy for someone who was antisocial. _Group _therapy.

Now, I was sixteen, and I still attended these sessions every Thursday afternoon. I guess I wasn't sociable enough to get out of the group, for I was the last original member. By original, I mean the last remaining person from my first therapy group meeting. They all left, leaving their antisocial behaviour behind them, into a newer, better, _sociable _personality.

I scoffed at the idea. I didn't need any friends.

The white ball of doom broke my thoughts when it whizzed by my head again. Startled, and provoked, I picked it up and threw it as hard as I could—as _blindly _as I could. I didn't care where it landed, as long as it was away from me.

I heard a loud "Ow!" followed by complaining.

"Zelda's such a witch," one girl said loudly. "She could've thrown it nicer, but she just _had _to hit Link."

"Yeah," her accomplice said.

Link? I blushed. Of all people, it had to hit him.

"You should yell at her," someone offered.

He laughed his easy-going laugh. "Nah. She's always had bad aim."

Tears stung my eyes when I heard him. He still remembered the fun times we had together, the times when he attempted to make me a better sportswoman. The bruises, the laughter, the many _sorrys_I offered whenever I hit him accidentally.

I didn't let my tears fall. I didn't offer a sorry.

Instead, I packed my bag, flung it on my shoulder, and discreetly came out from under the willow tree.

The same girl who tried to insult me poked a pink nail towards me. "There she is, Link!"

I froze in place as all eyes turned on me.

"Aren't you going to do something with your bruise?" She asked. Her voice was shrill, and I immediately grew a disliking to her.

He ignored the squeaky girl and waved at me. "Hello again, Zelda!"

_Why is he trying so hard? _

"Would you like to hang out today?"

I gulped the soreness in my throat. "No," I replied quickly.

Murmurs rose. They were surprised that I could talk, no doubt.

"Why not?"

I looked at my watch. _4 o'clock. _

"I have to go to a group session," I said and walked away.

"See you tomorrow!" He said after me.

I've never gestured to anyone, acknowledged their kindness with a verbal 'thank you' or a physical pat on the back.

I've never waved to anyone in greeting or farewell in two and a half years.

But on that sunny, autumn afternoon, I lifted my hand and gave a little wave.

_See you tomorrow._


	2. Chapter 2

**~ 2 ~**

* * *

Group therapy. Just those two words made my stomach churn with dread and anxiety. Group because of the people. Therapy because I didn't need it. The two caused a battle of fireworks and butterflies in my stomach, a combination which everyone knows does not go well.

On my way to the little (and ugly) brick building, I contemplated on turning back and going home. One session missed wouldn't make a difference—to me, at least—but I knew my parents would freak out if they heard I skipped, and I didn't want to deal with their scolding that day.

Thus, I reluctantly entered the blue double doors, so deep in thought that I pushed on a door that said _pull_. I sighed. Why couldn't they have revolving doors?

The building inside was as ugly as it was on the outside. Cheap linoleum, once white but now a light brown, was the choice of flooring. The walls lining the rooms were a dull green, and minimum decorations aligned them. Only bulletin boards of upcoming events and bleak wooden doors offered a break from the endless hall of green.

I stepped into the last door on the right, and as I walked in, all eyes landed directly on me. It appeared that I was late, which was exactly my intention. I didn't try very hard.

"Zelda," the wannabe therapist lady said, smiling. After all these years, I still couldn't remember her name. Whenever talking about her exaggerated enthusiasm to my parents, I referred to her as the Happy Counsellor Woman. Someone looked like they needed to be on happy pills, and it wasn't me.

I ignored her and plopped onto the last remaining chair rather ungracefully. The plastic did not embrace my bottom as well as the beautiful cushions we had at home.

"Now, uh, sorry for the interruption," Happy Counsellor Woman said, her smile straining. "But continue, Steve."

Steve was a man of about twenty-five. His hair was greasy and, from what I could tell from the putrid smell coming from his huge collection of crumbs he called a beard, he didn't shave. He enjoyed playing massively multiplayer online role-playing games in his mom's basement, and he was quite content with socializing with other gamers online. I thought it cruel that he, like me, was forced to attend such unnecessary, time-wasting meetings on a regular basis just because his parents told him to get over his condition. It seemed to me that he was quite talented at what he did, playing and reviewing video games, and he was happy in the solitude of his 'safe haven', as he called his home in his mom's basement.

"I really don't understand why I'm here," he laughed nervously. "I think I'm perfectly okay in the head."

Happy Counsellor Woman's smile split her face in half. "Thank you for sharing, Steve."

I caught her glancing at his name tag, and noticed that she didn't attempt to comfort his unease, or even respond to it respectfully.

"Anyone else who's new?" Her voice was unnaturally sweet and cold, just like a freezie.

I looked around the circle of familiar faces. No one shot up their hand. That's what's expected from 'sufferers' of antisocialism.

Happy Counsellor Woman looked around the stuffy room before her finger chose a random target. "You there," she smiled. "I haven't seen you before."

"M—me?" He gasped, his hands shaking immediately.

"Yes." Somehow, her already big smile grew larger.

The poor kid widened his eyes. I'd freak out, too, if a random lady pointed at me with a creepy grin.

"I—I'm…"

"Go on," she insisted.

I crossed my arms. He clearly had trouble with speech, and was obviously embarrassed when conversing. Yet, she smiled at him, expecting the kid to make a speech on the spot.

"My—my name's Mark," he sputtered out.

She didn't say anything, and waited for him to elaborate.

"I—I—I c—can't…t—alk well—ell." he stuttered.

Since I was feeling generous that day, I raised my hand to save him from further torment.

"Zelda! Finally joining the discussion, I see."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and stood.

"First of all, I'd rather _not _spend my time here and talk about my personal problems, which I don't have, to a bunch of people grouped together based on a common misconception. Honestly, I'd rather be at home enjoying a good book or movie. But I'm stuck here for an hour, like the rest of these suckers, because someone who 'loves' us thinks we have something wrong in our minds, and sent us here to delete that special part of us. I don't think they love us if they do that to us, since they can't accept us and all."

Her smile twitched and froze in place. Uh-oh. Happy Counsellor Woman definitely had a different facial expression on her besides smiling for once.

Nervous Mark stood up on his chair quickly. Everyone looked at him, and he placed a hand behind his neck. "A—agreed. That is a—all."

Steve stood up as well. "Me too."

Chairs scraped the floor and murmurs filled the room. Happy Counsellor Woman waved her arms about for attention. No one noticed until, finally, she stood up and shouted.

"Quiet down!" She roared.

Everyone stopped talking immediately. No one liked dealing with Happy Counsellor Woman when she revealed her inner beauty.

She flashed a wavering smile. "Good. Now take a seat."

Everyone sat down. Except me.

"Zelda," she said. I could hear the angry bubbles boil in her throat. "Sit _down._"

"I prefer standing," I replied. "Burns more calories than sitting."

"I never saw you as a person who cared about dieting," she snapped. "Now _sit."_

"I'm perfectly fine," I insisted.

She glowered and spoke as if I were a child, "Sit! Or I'll report this incident to your parents."

"Go ahead," I said, and walked out.

As I walked home, I realized that I made a mistake in walking out. What would my parents say? What would she tell them? What would _I _tell them? I bit my bottom lip.

My parents are weird folk. They study the human brain, and my mom even specializes in teenage psychology, yet they cannot help me in my hardest times. Instead, they sent me to a stranger with a group of other strangers to help define my self-identity in the hopes of me making friends.

Having a mom as a psychologist peeved me at times. She always hovered over me, making me feel like her precious baby who needed tender love and care, which I am _so _not anymore and always hinted at, but being a mom she never got the idea.

Dad, on the other hand, was an aloof psychiatrist with the stereotypical appearance of one—thin, tall, round glasses and balding (he also laced his fingers together when conversing deeply). He was a workaholic, always doing paperwork whenever Mom wasn't bugging him to do some tedious house chore, or bugging him to use his magical PhD powers on his antisocial daughter.

I constantly reminded them both that I wasn't antisocial, that I just preferred to be in the company of Me, Myself and I. They thought there was something wrong with me, so they tried to "fix" me, making a functional law-abiding citizen in a crowd of other functional, law-abiding, _zombie-like_ citizens. (Thanks, Mom and Dad, apparently I'm dysfunctional and don't follow society's rules).

Their arguments always came in questions, a psychology trick to get me thinking about the answers to them, to make me feel like _I _came up with the solution myself so that I felt like I would overcome my little problem. I, however, viewed these questions as scams and never fell for them.

Many of the questions touched the topic of getting a career in the future, and they varied each time it came up. "How are you going to get a job if you don't have any bedside manner?" They'd ask.

Sometimes I said nothing. Other times I joked that I'd live with them when I'm older, become a parasitical boomerang child leeching off their food and money in their basement. But most of the time I'd argue my case, saying that I, as an individual, have found my true self and am unwilling to change. To be fancy, I'd add examples of careers that were independent of everyday social situations.

Our fights were repetitive, becoming boring and a constant in our everyday home life. They were determine to erase my "condition"; I was determined to remain the way I was. None of each other's' arguments made us change the other's viewpoint. I didn't get my stubborn side from nothing.

Despite the Great Psychological Debate, I loved my parents. They were the two people I ever trusted, relied on, confided in. After all, they were the ones who raised me, and sometimes it hurt when they thought they raised a daughter who didn't live up to their (or rather, society's) expectations. I liked being alone. Being different.

The Debate resumed without me when I approached two-story colonial house, I heard arguing through the kitchen window.

"No, Daven, we are _not _putting our daughter on medication." Mom's voice was heated, a rarity she only preserved for Dad whenever this specific topic came up. As a therapist, she grew accustomed to using her calm and gentle voice for everything and everyone, even to persons who attacked her (verbally or physically) and had mental breakdowns.

I stopped in my tracks and, to get into better hearing range while remaining invisible, I moved silently towards the shrubs near the kitchen, bending underneath the window. I listened hopefully, betting that Mom would win the discussion over Dad because she usually did.

"She needs it. She really does. It'll help her overcome her condition," Dad said. I could hear his bony fingers tapping as he laced them together.

"No, it won't. She'll rely on it. She won't be able to function without the medication. And you know Zelda likes her independence."

Dad sighed, a signal of his frustration. "Mavis," he said, getting serious. "It's been three years—"

"Two and a half," Mom corrected.

"Two and a half years of therapy and there hasn't been any progress."

"_Group_ therapy." Mom exclaimed. "That was your idea. I suggested one-on-one therapy sessions."

"Zelda gets nervous around strangers, and she would never tell her personal problems to someone she doesn't even know."

"But social anxiety pills? Is that really the answer?"

_Woah_. I felt my ears perk up at the word, felt my eyes widen. Social anxiety? I didn't have social anxiety!

I got lost in my thoughts as Mom went off into a monologue of overcoming obstacles, and feeling the satisfaction of accomplishing one's goal independently (a recurring point she made in the Debate). Did they honestly think I had social-anxiety? I never felt self-conscious, or doubted myself in front of others. I was confident enough to parade in sweatpants and oversized sweaters, to announce any opinions I had, to stand up for what I believed in. All this in front of others _defied _the description of social anxiety. I didn't care what other people thought of me, whether I acted inappropriately, dressed differently or indirectly dissed them. The only person I felt uncomfortable around was Link, and that was because I loved him and he would never, not in a million years, return that affection.

Just as Dad was responding to Mom's emotional lecture, I sprung up from the window yelling, "I DON'T HAVE SAD!" (An acronym for social anxiety disorder). My shout was loud and out of the blue, scaring the birds out of nearby trees and into the sky.

"Zelda!" My mom shouted in surprise. Dad choked on his water, gasping, and Mom jumped a foot into the air like she was about to take flight. She dropped a glass pan of uncooked food. It smashed against the floor—carrots, zucchinis, and beans exploding from the cracked glass.

They didn't look at the wreckage I caused. They didn't ask me why I wasn't at my session. They didn't even scold me the importance of group therapy.

Instead, they attempted to sputter sorries. I didn't stick around for their apologies. Hurt by the two I loved most, I ran.

I didn't get very far because I couldn't run very far, and ended up at the park where it all began. _Summerdale Park_, read the wooden board in huge, block letters. The park nestled between the school and my house. It looked very different during the day, the swing set I sat on two and a half years ago sagging to the ground, its once bright red seats were a dull pink from sun and rain exposure, and I sat down on them for the second time in my life. The park had definitely seen better days, and was neglected by families and the municipalities. The park and I had a similarity, it seemed. Just like I, it had been neglected attention. I was neglected emotionally from my parents.

The realization tore me inside out, and I felt exposed. My heart was out in the open, and as the threatened tears stung my eyes, I felt my chest harden, as if preparing for something sharp and shiny to pierce through.

_You're just a test subject, their patient. Not their daughter. _

_Don't cry, don't cry. You never cry. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, Zelda Nohansen. Pull your shit together. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…_

I squeezed my eyes shut as I inhaled and exhaled deeply, and the tears spilled, flowing over my cheeks and making my nose leak like a faucet. I wiped them with the back of my hand.

"I thought you were at a group session," a deep voice said.

I froze in whatever I was doing, which, unfortunately, was my hand grossly wiping crap from my face. I could recognize that smooth voice from anywhere since it was constantly talking in all my classes.

The next thing I did was despicable, so despicable that it would force me to rethink of my behaviour (or condition) in the future, but at that moment, right then and there, I exploded like a shaken pop can. Because I was shaken after my parents' secret plan to get rid of my condition, which I was convinced did not exist at the time, shaken from his presence in the very spot where it all began, I was like coke and Mentos, baking soda and vinegar, and exploded in his face with such anger that even _he_ was shocked. Kind and concerned Link shocked by the very girl he wanted to be friends with.

_"__What do you want?" _I screamed, ripping my hands away from my face and thrashing them to my sides in clenched fists. "Can't you see I want to be alone? Can't you _please, _for the love of God, just _stop _bothering me! I don't want friends—I don't _need _friends. I have nothing to say to you. I'm not the girl I once was so just stop—stop stalking me!"

It felt like a re-enactment, him and me at Summerdale Park, and it brought back hurtful memories to us both. My shouting died down, and it was strangely quiet after my loud outburst, the wind blowing softly and carrying the conversation of a couple walking on the other side of the street. _Where do you want to go? _Asked the man. _Anywhere, anyplace, as long as you're with me, _she answered.

My normal self would roll my eyes at her tacky attempt to be romantic and sentimental, but at the time I was feeling too negative to be humorous. I was mortified, ashamed, and guilty.

After what felt like the longest awkward silence I've ever experienced, he spoke. "I—," he started.

I swallowed my pride and interrupted him, hoping to undo the damage I just did. Instead of cutting in, we spoke in unison: "I'm sorry."

My eyes shot up at him. He didn't have his lazy, crooked smile hanging, or his dazzling grin. He looked serious, and whatever hurt he felt had passed as he stared at me with forgiveness, and, in his sea of bright blue eyes, I saw a hint of regret.

"No, I'm sorry," he said, launching into an improve speech. "You're right. I should back off. You need your space. And I still see you need to be alone after all your lonesome years. Good-bye." He didn't say it rudely, but flatly, as if he were stating the undeniable truths.

He started to walk away. I started to bite my lip.

"Link," I called. He was halfway across the park, his back to me, when he turned around. The orange glow of the late afternoon sun shined against his mop of blonde hair, and I blushed, suddenly wishing I didn't call his attention. _Do it, you coward._

He waited, raising his brows in question.

"Want to talk?" I asked inaudibly.

He strode towards me with his long legs, and was smiling that all too familiar full-fledged smile. A real, genuine Link Ordon smile.

It was still on his face when I slowly realized that I made that smile happen, that I made him happy with those three simple words. Three simple words that he had been yearning to hear from me for so long.

That smile summoned a forgotten feeling. It bubbled in my chest, expanding, daring to burst open.

It felt good to make someone happy again.


	3. Chapter 3

**~ 3 ~**

* * *

Before I met Link—before I even had a friendship with him, I was a shy, lonely girl who roamed my parents' giant house with stuffed animals and dolls. My collection was endless—china dolls from different countries, and stuffed animals of varying species, colour and size lined the walls of my room. I had many friends. They were just toys who would do the listening for once.

At school, I was the quiet kid in class. I was a sweet, respectful student, teachers said, and I never denied help when asked. Kids viewed me as a nice girl to use, and I always shared my treats and toys with them, thinking that this was the correct way to form friends. Little did I know that I was fooled with their meaningless thanks.

Overtime, my nice side became a negative part of me, my love of assisting others and making them happy soon became voluntary theft. I was the culprit, mostly, because I was willing to give my things away without questions.

_"__Can I have your Oreos?"_ A boy with curly red hair asked on the first day of school.

_"__Sure. Help yourself to anything." _

And everyone jumped in and asked for some part of my lunch, leaving a disappearing lunch act and a very hungry girl.

_"__Thanks, Zelda!"_

_"__You're the best."_

This occurred every day. For the first two years of my school career, I did not have a lunch. My parents always wondered why I was so skinny, so hungry. I never told them from fear of becoming a snitch, the least respected person in the class.

Being the shy kid I was, I felt more confident if I brought a friend to school, so of course I brought my dolls and stuffed animals to kindergarten.

_"__That's such a cute toy,"_ a blonde girl said. _"Can I play with it for a while?"_

_"__O—okay,"_ I said hesitantly. _"But only for a bit."_

_"__Thanks!"_

_Thanks. _Just a word to toss around. It has no meaning. No value. It isn't sentimental. Real sentiments come in the form of actions, not words.

So, after I spilled my sorrows in nonsensical ramblings, I looked at Link with embarrassment and admiration. I was embarrassed because I wasn't used to talking to people, yet alone talking to Link (of all people!) while tears and snot blemished my face. But it was nice to tell someone about my day, to do the talking for once. It was nice that someone listened to _me; _the least likely candidate to talk_, _the quiet girl who everyone thought was mute and mean.

I was surprised that he responded to me with careful words, that he didn't judge me and laugh at me for worrying over weird things, and if he did, he felt immediate guilt and replied with a meaningful sorry. He made my embarrassment go away, made me stop thinking about the silly things I said. He made me feel _normal_—he made me talk _casually._

The conversation started awkwardly at first. What would you say to a friend who has been avoiding you for two and a half years?

"So…" he began.

It was confusing to him that I just yelled such hateful words, and then I suddenly wanted to talk to him.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I felt bad that I yelled at you. I guess I wanted to reduce the guilt," I said truthfully.

_"__Oh,"_ he said, his mouth forming an 'O'. "Way to break the ice, Zelda."

"What? What ice?"

He shook his head. "I just thought that you wanted to, you know…actually talk," he nervously laughed. "Like about school, your group activity, your parents. You know? Things that happened to you today."

_Parents. _I didn't like my parents that day. Should I rant to him about it?

_No, you're not close to him anymore. You can't talk about personal problems like you used to. _

Snot tickled my face. "Do you have a tissue?" I asked, then immediately regretted the words. He probably thought I was avoiding conversation, when in truth I _did _want to talk to him. I just didn't know how.

"Oh, uh, yeah!" He rummaged through his duffel bag. "Voila! Tissues. I have them in case I get hit in the face and get a bleeding nose," he said.

I felt my face twist in disgust.

He turned red when he realized what he said, and he tried to hide it with his long hair. I turned red when I realized why _he_ was turning red.

"Sorry. I know you get queasy with blood," he mumbled.

"Thank you for the tissue. And the story," I replied. It made me feel normal that a socially adept person could have a faux pas once in a while.

"Yeah…"

We looked away from each other. I blew my nose. He toed the sand.

"So," he said again. "How was your group thingy? I mean," he frowned, "your 'group session?'"

"Oh, _that? _Yeah. It was boring."

"What is it exactly?" He stared at me.

"Boring," I said quickly.

"That was a trick question. When I asked 'what is it exactly', I really meant 'how did it go?'"

"It went boring."

He smiled crookedly. "You're a charmer, aren't you?"

That earned him a smile. I covered it with my hand and tried to repress my laughter, but it inevitably exploded in a fit of snorts. He looked worriedly at me, thinking that I just had an asthma attack, or choked on my own saliva.

"Zelda? Zelda! Are you—are you okay?!"

After I caught my breath, I grinned. "Yeah. Sorry. That was really funny."

His crooked smile went up again. "Yeah, I guess it was, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh."

We went quiet again.

This time I was the first one to speak, "My group session is really group therapy with a rude therapist, or, in other words, a freak show displaying an assortment of misfits with the ringleader being a total _bitch._"

"Tell me about the show," he said. "And the ringleader. She seems quite the character."

"Oh, she _is._" I seethed. "She doesn't even know all our names. And she pretends to be friendly, but you can just tell she wants to get out of her volunteer job."

"She's a volunteer?"

"Yeah. Looks good on paper."

"So, she's just volunteering so then she can get hired and get her dream job?"

"Mhmm," I nodded. "Though, with that attitude, I don't think she'll get her dream job. And if she does, her patients will file complaints."

"I kinda wanna see this lady." He put on his creeper face.

I laughed (normally) again. "She's a pretty young thing. Probably doesn't know that half the guys in therapy mentally undress her."

"Everyone's a weirdo in your group?"

I didn't like the term he gave them. "No. They just don't get out much."

"Oh," he said. The _Oh_ sort of deflated out, like he was sad that he readily called them weirdoes. "Sorry." I could tell he meant it when he started fiddling with a twig in his hands. Link always fiddled with something when he wasn't feeling particularly happy.

I accepted his apology and continued. "They're all really nice people. They're unique. They have feelings, with the exception of a sociopath, and they all have their own interests and reasons why they joined. Although the information is forced out of them by the Happy Counsellor Woman, I find them quite interesting. I'd befriend them, but we don't like people that much."

"Which ones would you befriend?"

"Hmm…Agitha," I said, remembering faces. "Maybe Gamer Steve, Sociopath Bart, Nervous Mark…heck, maybe all of them!

"What happened to—?"

I cut him off, excited in sharing my world with someone. I was chatty today, and spoke more words than I had last week. "Agitha left recently. She told her parents she didn't like the group, so she stopped coming, and thus further contact was terminated. Gamer Steve continues to attend. So does Bart and Mark, although Bart attends because he finds observation of the freak show fascinating, and Mark goes because his mother tells him to. Always the mama's boy, that one."

"Wow," he breathed. "Seems a lot more interesting than the kids at school."

I beamed at his remark. I thought we were _very _much more interesting and unique than the kids at school, too.

Gamer Steve enjoyed finding out whether anyone played games (rather awkwardly. He'd stare at someone before approaching them, then ask them the question bluntly, even if you were looking out the window or in a sort-of conversation with another person), and then he added them to his friends' list whenever he discovered a new gamer. He didn't have any prejudice; he didn't scorn those who were 'noobs' at gaming, he didn't care if you weren't part of the PC Master Race (Bart said that his terrible secret was that he owned all consoles in existence) and didn't care at all if you lowered his stats and high scores.

Sociopath Bart was the smartest man I've ever met. He was the Man With the Plan, always scheming and figuring things out by himself. At first glance, he could tell all sorts of things about you—whether you were a virgin (which was many in our group), what you had for lunch, your job, your weaknesses and strengths. He knew more about a person than they did themselves. He also had no filter for his thoughts. He once told me I looked like a hobo bag lady, which I didn't mind at all. People took offense from him. But that was usually the 'normal' people.

Mark…I just liked Mark because he was probably a sweet guy underneath his nervous ticks and women-repelling exterior. He probably didn't care what he wore. I didn't either.

"Can I visit with you next time?"

His question stunned me. "Wha—?" Then I realized I was thinking internally and not verbally releasing my thoughts.

"Can I visit with you next time?" He repeated.

"Sure," I said dubiously. Then a million thoughts crossed my mind. "But we're really weird, you know? Some of them might ignore you, some might approach you and point out your every flaw, and some might even pester you to see if you have any games," and, as a reminiscent of fresh memories, I added, "and bugs. Agitha really likes bugs."

"I thought she didn't go anymore."

"Right! _Totally_ forgot."

"Okay," he said.

Another span of awkward silence followed. The conversation seemed to end, but I wanted it to continue.

"How are your parents?" He asked.

_Uh-oh. Touchy subject! _I was alarmed. Suddenly, tears blurred my vision.

"Zelda?" He asked when I started sobbing.

_Oh, just tell him! He'll understand. _

I covered my eyes to hide my tears (I also didn't want him to see the disgusting snot running down my face. Again).

"If you were wondering," I hiccupped, "why I was crying when you found me"—another hiccup—"it's because of them."

What came next surprised me so much that I literally fell head over heels.

I uncovered my eyes to see a Hylia High soccer jersey in my face.

He was _hugging _me.

I was so shock at the physical contact that I didn't even blush. I didn't like being touched, and my general rule is that if I didn't touch anyone, no one would touch me. It seemed it didn't apply here, because Link was hugging me!

We toppled over because I was sitting and he was standing in this weird crouch to wrap his arms around me, so he was basically leaning _half _his weight on me. The only thing holding us up was me, and I was too shock to realize it, so I fell off the swing, landing on my back with my heels in the air. Link landed on my stomach and I cried out. He was really heavy!

"Link," I struggled to find my breath. "If you would be so kindly remove your _elbow _from my stomach, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Oh my God, Zelda! I'm so sorry!" He jumped to his feet and pulled me up in one, swift movement. "Was the hug too much?" He paced around, and then answered his own question. "Yeah, the hug was too much."

"It was fine," I offered. "I suppose I needed a hug. And you scared away my hiccups."

"Really? I mean, I thought we were, like, friends again and stuff, so I hugged you just like old times, when you got upset and stuff..." His own hand slapped himself in the forehead. "I don't know what I'm talking about. Sorry." His crooked smile went up nervously.

I liked talking to Link. I kind of missed it.

"Yeah. Sure, we can be friends," I nodded. "Just keep your hands to yourself."

"I will."

"Okay then."

"Would you like to talk about your parents?"

"They want me on the meds," I said bluntly.

"What?"

"Oh right, yeah, you don't know any terms." He looked at me, confused. "Never mind. What I meant to say is: my parents think I have SAD."— Another confused look—"You know, social anxiety disorder?"

"Oh yeah! _That_." He pointed a finger in the air. It came down after a second. "What is that?"

I sighed. He didn't pay much attention in our psychology class. "It's when someone gets nervous in social situations that render them incapable of behaving appropriately—according to social norms."

"I don't think you have it," he said. "You're acting perfectly normal to me right now...well, what's considered 'normal'."

"My point _exactly,_" I said. An idea floated in my head. "Hey, Link, maybe you and I can hang out again? So my parents can see that I don't have it. Could you do that for me?"

He frowned. "I thought we were already going to do that. We're visiting your group therapy next week right?"

"Yes, we _will _do it. But maybe we can hang out tomorrow?"

"Okay," he said. "I'd like that very much." Another Link Ordon smile.

I blushed. "I guess this is farewell?"

He picked up my dropped bag and smiled. "No. I'll walk you home."

"If you want to—I mean, you don't _have _to—"

"I will. We live right next to each other."

He started walking. I followed him.

I squeezed my eyes shut. _Idiot, it's not much of a hassle. _"Yeah, I forgot about that."

"You seem to be forgetting a lot of things. Amnesia?"

I laughed. "I'm just remembering."

**...  
**

The next day, I saw Link walking to school and caught up with him. He gave me a friendly greeting and a smile.

"Good morning, Zelda."

Blushing, I pulled a mini basket out of my bag. I didn't know if I should give it to him. Would he like it? Would he think I'm weird? Maybe he'll know that I'm madly in love with him? I made up my mind. There's no turning back.

"Here," I said clearly and rather loudly. The mean old woman glanced up from her newspaper and glared at me from her porch. I looked away. "Thank you for yesterday, I needed it," I mumbled.

He didn't seem to hear my second sentence.

"What is it?" He rearranged the blue and white checkered cloth. He gasped, and then grinned. "Shortbread cookies! I remember these. You always made them, and they were always my favourite." He dug his hand in and pulled out a little bear. A confused frown spread on his face. His stuffed animal days were far behind him.

"That can be for Aryll," I offered.

"Thank you, Zelda!" He leaned in for a hug.

My hands shot up, and I waved them around. It prevented him from hugging me, and prevented me from blushing.

"Thank you for yesterday," I tried again.

He grinned. I grinned back.

He never asked for any snacks and toys, but I gave it to him anyway.

* * *

** I tried to make it cute and fluffy in their reunion. ^.^ ****Any thoughts/comments?**  



	4. Chapter 4

**This is when the bigger chapters start showing up.**

* * *

**~ 4 ~**

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid. _

Heat crawled back to my face as I felt the terror of being an outcast again. I mentally scolded myself. _Who cares?_

Link was surrounded once we arrived at school grounds. Students flocked to him and paid no attention to me. They cast me aside, blocking my path to him. I sighed, shoulders slumped. I should've known that Link had other friends during our time apart. Our times had passed and gone, and it wasn't only us anymore.

"Oh, Link is that a new shirt? It looks good on you!"

"Hey, Link, wanna be partners for Bio?"

"After school practice next week, Link. Better not miss it.

"Yeah! Coach is counting on you."

Through the sea of faces, I caught sight of Link smiling, laughing and nodding. How did he understand what everyone was saying? He probably had a million ears for a million voices.

I stalked off. I didn't think he'd miss my presence. Or notice that I was gone.

The first class I had was psychology, a class my parents wanted me to achieve in, and a class full of slackers, drones and Link. I gulped. Link was in _all _my classes this year. If that had happened in grade nine, I think I would've died, because that was the year when I was the most depressed and hurt. Of course, back then, I didn't realize I was depressed. A likely sign of depression is the number of pillows you have on your bed. My bed had a mountain of them.

The year of My Great Depression was also the year my parents threw me into that God awful therapy group. I suppose they did that because a) it was a chance for me to meet new people, thus enabling me to socialize and make friends, b) the chance of making friends was high, since people had the same condition and thus had the same mentality as me and were likeminded people, c) friends make you a better person (or so they say. They can get you in trouble and cause unnecessary drama) and d) it was free. Mom had always said _a penny saved, is a penny earned. _In other words, she was extremely cheap and liked to collect money, even coins that held no value.

So, on that very year of sleeping in a bed of a million pillows, I stayed inside and grew ghostly white, never seeing the sunset, the sunrise or the midday sun. I closed my curtains in my room and sat there, contemplating the simplicity of life. What is life? I asked. Life has no meaning. Everyone grows old, attempts to milk all the money they can, find a partner, reproduce with a partner, and, in the end of all that, we die. Then their children repeat the whole cycle again, and so do their children, and their children, and so on and so forth. With that mindset, I became a nihilist, a pessimist, and the most depressed person you could be around with in the whole entire world. Seriously, flowers wilted when I walked by them, animals ran away, people grew angry or sad whenever I talked to them (or went near them), and my parents snapped one day, grabbed me by the shoulders, forced me into the car, drove all the way to the ugly brick building, and plopped me down on an uncomfortable plastic chair.

Every Thursday was the only reason I came out of my bedroom that summer. Besides thinking about the very existence of our species, I read books and watched movies. I didn't care what genre it was. I watched horror, romantic comedies, plain old comedies, action flicks, dramas, poorly done soap operas and reality T.V. I didn't laugh. I didn't cry. I felt nothing towards everything I watched. I felt nothing towards everything I read. I felt like a zombie—emotionless, lethargic, and unproductive.

The only time I had any emotion at all was when Link attempted to hang out with me.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _Went the door.

"Hello? Oh, Link, it's you!"

"Can I see Zelda?"

"Yes, of course!"

Then I'd holler, "I'M SICK!" down the stairs and in a panic. After contemplating the several outcomes that would occur between my two options, I reasoned that Link would just hurt me more if I saw his face, that I would be happier if I stayed alone, even though I desperately wanted to see him again. In the end between the battles of heart versus brain, I let my brain win. My brain always wins.

In my lair of darkness, I peeked outside with squinted eyes. Every time I did this, it was in the hope of capturing Link within my vision. And when that did happen, my heart beat faster, my head ducked behind the curtains in a red flash, and then I'd reminisce while lying on the bedroom floor.

Once the tree leaves started dying, I entered the ordinary years of high school. Grade nine was not the best year for me. I was still in a negative state of mind. I became aggressive to people, overused the word "no", never lent a hand to anyone, and argued with the teacher whenever group projects were assigned. I was usually with the slacker kids whenever group assignments cane up, and I ended up doing the whole entire project by myself. Of course, I didn't mind this, because I essentially wanted to do the project alone, and alone I did. They'd just take credit for my good grades, but I didn't care. In fact, I didn't care about anything.

I rarely saw Link that year. He waved at me sometimes, and I'd look away, pretending I didn't notice while my knees shook. I hoped he didn't catch my jello legs, since that was the only sign of me noticing him.

We only had one class together in grade nine. It was a beginner's music class with another room full of unambitious students, and a lazy teacher who just wanted to be at home watching Bridal reality T.V. Ms Telma was in her mid-forties, single, and had a love (or obsession) of cats. To say the least, I didn't like her that much.

Link played the xylophone. I played the triangle, which is literally a metal triangle with a gap at the bottom, tapped by a metal bar.

Unfortunately, being percussion instruments, we were grouped together in the same section. I sat next to him, nervously twitching my knees and feet, fiddling with my hands, and looking everywhere but at him. He awkwardly sat there, making polite conversation whenever someone disobeyed school rules and talked during class. Talking to him was a very hard thing to do in because we sat in the far left corner at the back of the class. You either had to twist your neck to chat with him or yell across the room. Ms Telma didn't seem to care the disruption in her class, but I did.

I attempted to talk to her once, but she was obstinate and in a rush to go home to catch the latest show of _Four Weddings_. At the time she was in a bad mood. Her online boyfriend recently 'broke up' with her.

"Zelda, if you're so smart, why don't _you _teach the class." She said rudely.

"I'm not the teacher, Ms Telma, _you_ are. You should start acting like one."

"It's _beginner's_ music." She put strong emphasis on _beginner's_, as if it was a valid argument. I was about to point this out, but she walked out of the room in a huff.

The next day, I received a B on my performance. Outraged, I stood up and argued. I _always _got perfect.

"Ms Telma, what is_ this?"_ I asked when she handed it to me.

"Your grade." She continued handing out papers.

I followed her. "This isn't mine. I always get perfect."

"Not anymore," she smiled.

This set me off. "I did perfect on that performance. I was in synch with the beat. I counted the rhythms. I was in time with the music! Everything I did was correct."

"Your form and posture was sloppy."

I resisted the urge to correct her linking verb _was_ to _were. _"How so?"

"You slouch, your hand was lower than it should be, and your elbows bend outwards too much."

My mouth dropped open. "_Excuse me. _I have _perfect _posture!" I snapped. At that instant, I grabbed my instrument by the string, holding it delicately in my fingers. They formed a C, the best way for the instrument to sound clear. I stood straight and tall, my elbows bending slightly outwards, and my right hand holding the beater gently. When I raised the triangle, it was far from my chest. I tapped it, and a beautiful high note ringed. "See?"

Ms Telma didn't see. She ran out of the room, papers flying from her hands and landing on the floor.

The class was silent and looked at me strangely.

Then I realized I made Ms Telma, a _teacher_, cry. I realized I looked ruthless and cruel, and at that moment of realization, my face turned a solid red colour as the numerous eyes stared me down. The only eyes I saw were blue, and they held disappointment.

Murmurs rose as I walked out of the room.

"Zelda's a witch," was all I heard before I shut the door behind me.

That day was when my reputation for being sweet and quiet died. It was replaced with a new, crueler one: _Zelda's a witch. _

The very first day I started hating everyone and everything around me.

It was also the first day Link attempted to restart out friendship.

"Zelda!" I heard fast footfalls behind me. "Zelda!"

I ignored him and ran.

He eventually caught up with his longer, athletic strides.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I continued walking, trying to keep my breaths level.

He followed. "Zelda, are you all right?"

_"__Go away!" _I screamed, kicked him weakly, and attempted to run again.

Too bad I tripped and fell on my face.

"Oooh," I groaned. Link tried to help, but I shouted _don't touch me _and he awkwardly stood there watching me get up with considerable pain and blood running down my face.

When I saw the shiny, red, metallic-smelling stuff on my fingers, I felt woozy.

"Zelda?" He asked, his voice sounding faint.

"I'm—I'm okay," I said with difficulty. Suddenly, I was on the floor again, colourful spots floating in my vision. They turned to black, and the colours of my surroundings faded.

He grabbed my arm and helped me up.

"Don't touch me," I said weakly, trying to get out of his grasp. I almost fell, and he caught me.

"Easy there," he said.

I forget what happened after that because everything turned black.

I awoke lying on my back on a green mattress. Cabinets and counters were to the right, and on them were containers with the bio hazardous symbols, cotton swabs in several jars, Band-Aids packages lying around, and a large bottle of medical alcohol. I was in the nurse's office, I realized, but I didn't know how I ended up there.

Link was sitting at a nearby chair, and my heart started when I saw him.

My mouth opened, but before I could say anything, he covered it with his hand. My eyes widened in surprise.

"Shh! I'm not supposed to be here, but I wanted to see if you were okay," he whispered.

I slowly nodded. Then I remembered what happened before I got here. Embarrassment rushed towards me, then hurt and anger. In the heat of the moment, I bit him.

"Ow!" He recoiled, pulling his hand away from my mouth. Then, in an angry whisper, he asked, "Why did you do that for?"

"I don't want to see you. What part of 'go away' don't you understand?"

"You needed help."

"I don't need help."

He said nothing. "I was hoping we could be friends again."

"I don't want friends."

"You look lonely."

"I enjoy loneliness."

"Don't you miss me?"

I said nothing for a split second. Did I miss him? _Yes! _My heart cried out.

"No," I lied. "I don't."

He smiled. "I knew you'd say that."

"Then why bother asking?"

"There's such a thing called hope."

I bit my lip to prevent it from quivering. _Hope. _A notion only fools hold. I suppose I was a fool. I hoped Link would love me as I loved him.

"Anyways," he said. "Here." He inserted a chocolate bar in my hands. "One day, I hope we can be friends again."

As he left the room, I looked down in my limp hands.

The bubbly letters shined back at me, and I unwrapped the wrapping, took a bite of the chocolate, and the familiar sweet taste of Aero overloaded my senses.

Tears ran down my face. Suddenly, I tasted nothing. Then I understood why I was crying, why I felt the ache in my chest and throat.

Link remembered everything about me; he even remembered my favourite chocolate bar. And I chose to forget everything about him.

As I ate in silence, I realized I didn't enjoy loneliness. I realized I missed Link. And, above all, I wanted to be a part of his life again, even if we were friends.

_You'll only get hurt. Stay away from him. _

My brain won that day. And my heart cried.

As I walked to my psychology class with a pit in my stomach, I swore to my heart that it will prevail today, that I'll try to befriend Link, even at the cost of my social integrity. Possible encounters with bullies, and battles with Link's groupies attempting to steal time with him will _not _damage my heart of stone.

The familiar quick footfalls of Link interrupted my thoughts.

"Zelda!" He patted my back and arrived at my side, grinning. "Where'd you go? You disappeared!"

"I was thinking about chocolate and pillows," I said, and he chuckled. "And you're the one who disappeared into a crowd of teenagers."

"We a_re_ in a crowd of teenagers," he pointed out. We were in the middle of the hallway, kids bumping into us as we blocked their paths. A couple of them said hello to Link and eyed me suspiciously

I entered the stream of students moving right. Link followed me, whistling the familiar song we played in beginner's music.

"Remember Ms Telma?" He asked.

I blushed as unpleasant memories floated before me. "Yes," I said, glad that my face wasn't turned to him.

"She was the worst teacher _ever. _She liked to show a lot cleavage, hoping that Mr Renado would turn an eye."

"But he never did."

"And he never will."

We laughed as we arrived at our destination, making a rather loud entrance as our laughter floated into the air. Girls shot me a look of death. A couple of guys grinned and greeted Link with friendly waves, ignoring me as I if I were part of the door.

Mr Renado entered at that moment. "To your seat, Link," then, with astonishment, he added, "and Zelda. Class, stop with the chatter."

Everyone quieted down. Mr Renado was strict and had a face that could turn kids into stone. He was also ruthless when he caught people texting in class, sending them to the office and stealing their phone, reading the text messages they sent and received, and then having their mobile device for the rest of the day. Luckily, I never texted…mainly because I _didn't _have a phone. Because of that, Mr Renado loved me as a student.

I placed my books neatly on my desk at the back corner of the room, and sat down on another uncomfortable plastic chair. Link sat in the desk next to mine. When I first heard of this seating arrangement, I was annoyed because I didn't want to be seated next to him. Mr Renado planned this deliberately since he knew that I was quiet and Link was a conversation magnet. I was glad things turned out well in the end, because now I _wanted _to sit next to Link and have him all to myself.

I listened to the lecture attentively. Link respected my love of learning, so he kept quiet and doodled in his book, looking up at Mr Renado once in a while to pretend he was listening. I scribbled down notes as quickly as I could, trying to keep up with Mr Renado's quick speech pattern.

"The id is the instinctive part of the mind. Imagine the devil on your shoulder who speaks of desires and encourages you to get what you want and ignore all consequences. The super-ego is the angel on your shoulder. It restricts the id because of learned social standards from society, parents, and authority figures—such as myself." He put on a silly grin, and the brown-nosers of the class laughed at his unfunny joke. "It is the self-critical conscience. It represses the id with moral standards taught by society. The super-ego allows the id to flourish appropriately in societal norms."

Link yawned. He doodled in his notebook of an iceberg floating in the water.

Mr Renado droned on, "The ego is the reality principle in our personalities, and strives to appease the id appropriately. The ego and a part of the superego are active in the conscious mind. The id and superego have considerable conflict subconsciously," he strode to the blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk and began outlining a lumpy-looking potato. "Now, class, that is just the basics of the complexity of Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theory of personality. For you visual learners, I have a model for you here."

The sad looking potato emerged into an iceberg. I glanced at Link's notebook, remembering the image he drew minutes before.

In messy writing, the exact wording and placement of lines matched the iceberg Mr Renado drew on the board.

"How did you know this already?" I asked, stunned.

Link leaned back on his chair, a smug grin on his face. "I know things, Zelda. I'm not stupid."

"I always thought you were," I blurted.

He didn't appear hurt by the statement. "I pretended to be," he replied. "So that you'd help me."

_"__What?" _

That wiped the smile from his face. "I—I wanted us to be closer back then, you know, so I pretended to be dumb so we could hang out more. Plus, you seemed to enjoy it. You liked tutoring me, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Right. Tutoring actually helps you remember things more, so I guess I did you a favour…?" He shrugged, waiting for a response.

I was irritated that he lied to me, but touched at the same time. _Be nice for once. _"Yeah, I guess," I admitted. "But that was still a dirty trick!"

He attempted to reduce the annoyance from me, "We can study together and quiz each other if you want," he said. "I sucked at math, so I wasn't _completely _lying to you. You helped me at it, and now I think I'm pretty good at math-e-mat-ics." He smiled. He always thought mathematics was a funny word, and pronounced it by emphasizing the syllables.

My shoulders shook in silent laughter. "Okay. We can," I finally managed to say. "Don't lie to me anymore, Link. I know it was a very long time ago, but still, lying _sucks _in relationships. No one wants a liar for a friend; even though most friends say you don't look fat in that outfit when you actually do."

It was his turn to snigger.

"I'm a truth seeker," I continued. "So tell the truth. Unless you wish to face my wrath!"

Mr Renado and the class snapped their heads towards us when Link's laughter leaked out of him.

He gasped for breath and opened his eyes to annoyed and confused faces.

"What?" He asked. "Mr Renado said something funny."

"Like what?" Mr Renado frowned, staring into Link's soul.

"The devil and angel always battle in our heads with pitchfork and harp. Of course, the devil always wins."

I didn't get how that was a joke, but Mr Renado smiled.

"Yes, it was very funny, wasn't it? But please, Link, keep your chortles to yourself. I think I shall refrain from joking lest Link explodes in fits of giggles."

The imagery of Link exploding made the class laugh. They didn't have a very good sense of humour if they laughed at _that._

Link grinned and stared at me. I stared at him. When I realized we were both staring at each other, I looked away, feeling bashful.

For the rest of the class, we did partners for looking up terms in the textbook. Dread gnawed at the back of my mind, the all too familiar fear of being picked last emerged from my sub consciousness.

To my surprise, Link immediately tapped my shoulder and asked, "Partners?" giving me the evil grin and acknowledgement that existed between us in elementary school whenever this similar assignment came up.

I nodded, smiling ecstatically, feeling the gratitude wash away the dread.

People surrounded our combined desks to talk to Link.

"Wanna be partners?" They'd ask.

"Sorry. Already got one."  
"Who?"

"Zelda."

_"__Who?" _

"This girl," he pointed at me.

In the spotlight, I smiled and waved awkwardly in greeting to all their stares.

_"__Her?" _They asked again, disbelief plastered on their face.

"Yeah," we said at the same time.

Then they stalked off and formed their own partnerships.

School passed quicker with Link by my side. When I ignored him (which was only yesterday!), I sat at my desk, took notes, did assignments and glanced at the clock occasionally, wondering when the next bell would ring. Today, our four classes went by fast, and the bell of freedom ringed shrilly in the hall, beckoning the students to rush out of class, to their locker, and do whatever they did after school. My normal routine was to visit my special spot and read a book, head home, do homework, eat dinner, shower, watch a movie if I had the time, and then sleep. Link altered it that day.

"So, what are we gonna do today?" He asked, following me to my locker, brushing off the random kid who tried talking to him. Although it was evil of me to think such selfish thoughts, I _really_ enjoyed how he was only giving _me_ attention.

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe we can head back to my house?" I asked nonchalantly.

"And do what?"

I hadn't thought it through yesterday. What did people do when they had guests over? I remembered my parents bringing home co-workers as guests once. They served crackers and cheese, olives, grapes, vegetables and dip, and cold beverages.

"I suppose we can eat food?" I suggested.

"Yes! I'm _famished."_ As if on cue, his stomach growled.

I giggled, packing my books into my bag.

"And then what?" He asked.

I thought for a second. "Uhhh, maybe talk about stuff?"

"What sort of stuff?"

"I dunno. Just stuff." I closed my locker.

Link's nose wrinkled. "Don't be so vague, Zelda!"

"Then _you _decide what to do."

"Let's watch a movie," he suggested.

I turned away from his gaze, feeling self-conscious suddenly. Didn't couples watch movies together on a Friday night? "I—I guess we can see what's on."

"Excellent! Let's head to your house in the meantime," he smiled, grabbed my bag, and ran off to his locker while balancing his books and my heavy backpack in his hands.

Surprised, I yelled after him: "THIEF! STOP!"

He turned around and shook my purple bag, "Try to catch me!"

Grinning, I ran after him. And this time I didn't fall.

**…**

We were at my house, scrolling down the webpage of the local theatre, arguing on what to watch. Link liked action oriented stories full of helicopters, gunfire, heroes that never died, got the girl and lived happily ever after. His favourite types were the one man army movies who worked for secret organizations. I enjoyed dramatic movies that moved an audience deeply through carefully thought out screenplay. I suggested we watch a critically acclaimed documentary uncreatively titled the _Hyrulean Civil War_, but he shook his head with a sullen expression.

"Zelda, movies are meant for _entertainment. _Watch those documentaries in class, why don't ya?"

And so, we spent several long minutes in my messy room eating Cheetos. I sat on my puffy, black leather, computer chair, and Link stood, controlling the mouse. His lean arm was dangerously close to my face.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" I asked again.

"Yeah. We're gonna leave soon, anyways. I hate sitting."  
"I do too," I said.

He lifted me up, my feet floating in midair. The shock left me speechless as he set me down gently.

"You can stand then," he said happily, seating himself onto the chair.

When he saw my face whiten, he turned to the screen quickly and viewed the shows available. "Sorry," he muttered, face turning pink. "But, hey, you can choose any show you want," he smiled. "Even romantic movies with supernatural elements in it that girls like a lot, like this one!" he exclaimed_. _"Would you like to watch_ My Immortal?"_

"I'm not your average girl," I said. "A vampire love story at a school for wizards and witches? I don't think so."

I scanned the description of a fantasy, drama and action movie. "How about the _Last Princess? _Sounds action-packed. It starts at five-thirty. You like action. I love dramas. It's a win-win situation."

He read it with the speed of light. "Yes! Let's go," he excitedly grasped my hand, pulled me towards the stairs, out the exit and into the blinding sun.

Link walked quickly, and I had to jog lightly in order to keep up.

"Can't you slow down?" I asked, panting.

He glanced behind him. I moved my long hair away from my face, feeling self-conscious as he looked at me. Sweat poured down my face, and I was still wearing my ugly hobo bag lady clothes despite the heat.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," he laughed gleefully. "I'm just so excited today!"

"You're excited every day," I replied.

"Then I'm super-_duper _excited today!"

I laughed. "How come?"

His smile faltered, and he gazed at me with such happiness that he didn't need a smile to show it, "It's because I'm with you again."

My heart stopped beating. I felt like I could faint at any moment.

"Zelda. Zelda?"

"Wha—? Huh?"

"We've been standing here for a minute now. Seriously, I counted. It's been a minute."

I blushed. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," I mumbled.

We walked in awkward silence, regret lingering in the back of my mind. Why didn't I say I was happy that I was with him again too? I sighed heavily. _Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid!

The old theatre sign flashed before us. I followed Link as he greeted the girl working at the box office booth.

People cast dirty looks as we butted in line.

"Misha! Hey there," he smiled crookedly.

The green haired girl named Misha grinned widely at him. "Hey, Link! What'cha gonna watch tonight?" She asked flirtatiously. "College Vampire Babes?" she winked.

Link hid the horrified look on his face with ease and laughed flakily, "Oh, no. Two tickets to the _Last Princess, _please." He handed her a twenty.

Misha took the money and raised her brows at the word _two._

"Two?" She asked slowly.

I didn't see how the number two distracted her.

"Yeah," I cut in, attempting to speed up the acquirement of tickets. I didn't like the annoyed looks on the other customers.

"Who are _you?_" She asked with venom in her clenched teeth.

"She goes to our school," he laughed.

"I've never seen _heeeeeer." _Her speech pattern was weird. The last words she said in sentences were drawled out and emphasized.

"I've never seen you before, either," I offered.

"Uh, _whatever,_" she said and slapped down two tickets with a loud _bang. _"Have a nice day," she said angrily. I noticed she didn't give back the change. Link didn't seem to mind as he walked towards the entrance.

"What happened to her?" I asked as we walked into the theatre's beautiful wooden doors. "She was so nice to you and then she turned so—so evil!"

Link opened his mouth, then closed it, then thought again, opened it, and said, "She has a crush on me and thinks you're my date."

I was stunned into silence.

"So…is this a date?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes," he said immediately. Then he added, "A friendly one."

My heart shattered all over again. _Friendly. _

I gulped my heartache down and flashed him a shaky smile, attempting to speak in a normal tone, "Okay. I'll find a spot. You can buy whatever this gets us." I shoved a fifty dollar bill into his hands.

Despite the show almost starting, the theatre was practically empty. No one watched old movies when the new ones came out. I found a spot right in the middle of the theatre, the best seats in the house, and threw my oversized sweater on one to save a spot for Link. With my protective cover off, I was only wearing a tank top underneath and felt _extremely_ naked with it on. I never showed more skin than my hands and neck.

Link searched for me when he entered with a bag of popcorn, skittles, and two cups of pop. I waved at him. He ignored me. I called his name. He looked at me strangely. Then recognition passed over his face.

"I didn't recognize you without your clothes on!" He said as he approached me. A lopsided grin was on his face.

I blushed. "I _do _have clothes on."

"I mean, you always cover yourself up that I couldn't recognize you with visible skin."

Embarrassed, I grabbed the sweater and pulled it over my head. When I looked at Link, he glanced away, blushing.

"You were looking at my breasts, weren't' you?"

"Yes…" he cringed.

"LINK!" I shouted. Fierce shushes echoed throughout the theatre. "You creep," I whispered angrily.

"Sorry," he offered.

"Apology not accepted," I said and grabbed a handful of popcorn, stuffed it in my face and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It was by accident," he said again. "I'm really sorry Zelda. I _never _do that women."

"I doubt it," I glowered. I suddenly wished I was at home right now and _not _on a friendly date with a friendly friend, discussing the incident of 'accidental' boob sight-seeing.

"Okay. Whatever," he sighed. Then, in a rather reluctant, monotonous voice, he said "I purposely looked at your beautiful boobs, which, mind you, belong on the body of the goddess of pleasure and love, the goddess Aphrodite. They are _so _beautiful, and _so _rambunctious, that I could not resist the urge to sneak a peek and think dirty thoughts."  
"Link!" I shouted again, but in a whisper. He grinned, then I laughed hysterically when I realized he was joking. When I caught my breath, I gasped, "You just spoke the words of a sexually deprived teenage boy. Or maybe a sex addict that hasn't had sex in years."

He smiled crookedly, his arms folded behind his head. "Hey, my other mode of defense seemed to anger you. Thought I could redeem myself by making you laugh through obscenity, the very essence of humour."

"I'm afraid it worked," I snorted.

The lights darkened and the theatre speakers blared. Advertisements flied through of upcoming movies, and I impatiently shook my knee.

"Don't you just wish they skipped ads? I'm here for the movie, not other movies!"

"Sometimes they don't even advertise movies at a movie theatre," Link said as a pop commercial popped up.

"They serve pop at theatres," I pointed out. Then I proceeded to sip my iced tea. "I hate pop. It's just sugar."

"I know," I could see Link's crooked smile in the light of the gigantic screen. It illuminated his face beautifully, casting shadows on his smooth skin.

I've always loved his profile—his soft, crooked smile, the deep-set, blue eyes that belonged on a model, but the first time I truly noticed and admired his appearance was in grade seven. His looks transformed greatly since the last time I looked at him with awe. His once soft jawline was now hard, rigid, broader, and the tip of his chin was aligned perfectly with the tip of his straight nose.

His eyes landed on mine.

"What?" He asked.

Stunned, I couldn't move. Then, with the quick turn of my neck, I looked at the screen, pretending I was watching the ads all along.

"You were looking at my face, weren't you?"

I grinned slowly, recognizing the exact wording I used minutes ago. "Yes…" I mimicked his hesitant voice.

"ZELDA!" He whispered in an irritated voice. "You weirdo, you creepy, creepy girl," he mock scolded. A couple of nearby people listened in to our conversation. We ignored them and continued our antics.

"Sorry. It's just so beautiful that your face belongs on the statues of handsome naked men in ancient Greece, the covers of magazines and movies," I said truthfully. Good thing he thought I was joking at the moment. "In fact, it's just _so _handsome and _so _alluring, that all women _and_ men in the entire _world _should fall in love with you and beg you to do dirty, _dirty_ things to them."

We laughed loudly then and there. A little _too _loud.

Seconds later, a flashlight pierced the darkness and landed directly on Link. He squinted at the sudden brightness.

"Sir," the usher said. "Excuse me, but you have been disturbing the quiet environment the theatre demands. I have to ask you to leave."

Then the light landed in my eyes.

"And your date as well."

"I'm not his—" I started, but Link grasped my hand and pulled me up swiftly.

"Sorry, sir. We'll be leaving right now."

We exited the building and began walking in a random direction.

I glanced at my watch and sighed with exaggerated annoyance. _Five twenty-nine. _

"They kicked us out at the _last _possible minute before the movie started!"

"I know," Link said. "That theatre wasn't very good. We should go to the more modern ones, anyways."

"Yeah. It's a ghost town in there. The popcorn sucked. And my iced tea tasted bland."

"And the usher!" Link complained. "Don't get me started on _him._"

"_Excuse me, sir," _I mimicked.

"What a rude usher," Link exclaimed. "Shining a light in our eyes, kicking us out."

"That _is_ his job," I defended the rude stranger. "We weren't that loud, anyways."

"Yup," Link said.

"Yeah," I said.

We walked in comfortable silence. Beautiful, old buildings lined the cobble-stone sidewalk, encouraging pedestrians to enter and buy their goods and services. It was a very diverse street, with Thai restaurants, Japanese sushi bars, Polish take-out, and Jamaican fast food joints, their bright windows like a paintings in a picture gallery.

"To be fair, his girlfriend has a bigger crush on me instead of him," Link commented suddenly.

"Crush?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah. Misha's his girl."

Irritated at his terminology, I lectured him that no man can own a woman.

He smiled. "Typical Zelda. I still know how to rustle your feathers." His hand landed on my head and roughly messed my hair.

I squeezed my eyes shut at his incoming hand. "Link," I shouted. "Stop!" My hands shot up and defended my head from further harassment.

He chuckled. "Okay, okay."

His hands slid back inside his khaki pockets. I crossed my arms and slouched.

"Slouching isn't good for you, you know?"

"I know," I replied, then straightened my back. "It's an old habit."

"Old habits die hard," we said simultaneously, then smiled like fools at each other.

The too long eye contact made me look away quickly, slightly blushing.

"Hungry?" He asked after a long pause.

"Yes," I admitted. "But not for popcorn."

I proceeded to dump it into a nearby trash can. Link's arm shot out and stopped me.

"There are starving people in the world, Zelda. Let's give it to someone who's hungry." His words surprised me. Link didn't look the charitable type. In all honestly, he looked like one of those jerks who wore expensive looking sunglasses indoors, the type who drove a Ferrari that screamed _I look hot and have lots of money!_ (Which is completely true. After all, he _is _hot and rich).

"Okay," I said. "But do you see anyone who looks hungry here? This is the ritzy area. People have money to buy food for themselves."

Link grabbed the popcorn and drinks, and walked towards a clump of clothing on the sidewalk. As my eyes registered, I realized that the clump of clothes was a man!

I watched as Link spoke to him with a soft smile, offering popcorn and drinks to him. The man returned his smile, nodded, and took the food from his hands. Then Link dug into his pockets and retrieved a shiny, newly-pressed, twenty dollar bill, placed it into the man's tin cup, and waved good-bye at him. The man started crying tears of joy.

"Thank you!" I heard the man shout between sobs. "God bless your kind soul!"

A new form of admiration expanded in my chest.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and saw a random lady with heavy make-up grinning at me.

"Here," she shoved something in my hands and walked away.

Confused, I looked down and saw a five dollar bill. Seconds later, I understood. After seeing Link's act of kindness, she was inspired to do her own act of kindness. Mistaking me as a hobo, she gave me money.

I wasn't mad. Many people mistake me as homeless based on my clothes. My form of revenge was gaining free money.

"There. Popcorn free!" Link said cheerily. He wrapped an arm around me, and we started towards an Italian restaurant. For the first time in a while, I didn't notice the physical contact.

I smiled up at him. "That was a nice thing to do," I said, then corrected, "That was a _beautiful_ thing to do. I wish I thought of that."

"It's okay," Link consoled. "You haven't been here in a while."

"In this street or at this restaurant?"

"Well, _I've _never been at Luigi's before. Have you?"

"No," I replied.

Link opened the door and ushered me in.

"By the way, this random lady thought I was homeless, too, so she gave me money!"

I felt the laughter erupt from his abdomen. Then I realized my arm was wrapped around him. I withdrew it and stuck it firmly by my side in a clenched fist.

"Zelda?" You okay? You look like you saw a ghost!"

"I'm just hungry," I lied. In my head, my little id devil and superego angel were having a dual. My id wanted to proceed to dinner and continue talking with Link, but my superego said that I shouldn't be eating with Link, that this was a form of romanticism, a thing my parents protested in teenagers.

Link's hand brushed mine. I glanced up at his smiling face.

"Let's eat," he said, leading me to a cute café-inspired table set. He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit.

I didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Worry twitched his smile into a frown.

I forced myself to sit.

"Nothing," I said softly. "Nothing at all."

The wise words of Helen Keller floated through my mind, and—at that very moment—Link spoke them with a wink and a crooked grin,

_"__Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."_

And, just like that, my unease, self-consciousness, and discomfort disappeared all at once, and were replaced with the joy of Link's companionship.


	5. Chapter 5

**~ 5 ~**

* * *

I awoke the next day with a smile on my face as the sun's warmth greeted me from the open window. I didn't scowl at the hot light for once, nor did I yell at Mom for invading my sleeping quarters and banishing the comfortable darkness through the withdrawal of curtains. Today, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. She had a look of surprise when I glided down the stairs, and I asked brightly, "What's for breakfast?"

She almost dropped her mug of hot tea.

"Mom, what's for breakfast?" I repeated, opening the fridge and serving myself a cup of orange juice.

She coughed. "Honey, I thought you weren't speaking to us."

"Oh, that's old news," I said, waving my hand.

"I dunno," she looked into her mug, "you seemed _pre_tty mad."

"I'm not that mad anymore, I mean, I guess I overreacted. But I am _so _not eating any pills. 'Kay?"

She smiled smugly, "Now _that_ was your father's idea. If you have any complaints, go yell at him about it."

"Yell at me for what?" Dad's head poked around the corner. He emerged wearing his favourite outfit: a three-piece suit, briefcase and fedora. The hat was classy and covered his receding hair, a fact of life he tried to cover up with ridiculous attire.

"Force feed me pills and I'm gonna have to call social services," I joked, and then added, "But seriously. I don't like pills."

"We'll have this discussion another time, young lady," he responded in his exaggerated menacing Father voice, hoping to make my good mood even brighter. It worked, and orange juice snorted out my nostrils. Dad wasn't the type of man to joke around and goof off, his list of fun things included work, encyclopaedias, medical journals, news, and more work, and whenever he quipped the rare witticism, or acted out of character, someone was bound to laugh like a maniac. Unfortunately, I was the victim this time.

After my laugh spasm, he turned to Mom and said, "I'm late for work. Dave got laid off, so I took the opportunity and snatched his patients to earn extra money," he grinned. _Money makes the world go_ _round_ is his motto. My parents were money making machines and extremely cheap. They preferred the term 'frugal', though, to make them sound pretentious and not the money hogs they were.

"Yeah, okay. Just get me that new video game on the way back at Malo's Mart," I suggested hopefully.

Dad shook his head. "Gee, I don't know, Zelda. Fifty bucks wasted on an electronic pastime that has no significance in the development of the adolescent brain?"

"C'mon, Dad. A friend really wanted me to get it," I insisted, thinking about happy Gamer Steve.

"A friend?" They both looked shocked. "In that case, all right! Even if peer pressure is deemed unacceptable in this household, we shall purchase this game to impress your friend, who, might I add, we don't even know."

"Thanks, Dad!" I hugged him. They even looked more shocked.

"Okay. Who kidnapped our daughter and replaced her with this?" Mom asked.

Dad laughed. "Whoever this strange girl is, she's a vast improvement from that miserable, soul-sucking child we had."

"Dad!" I grinned. "I'm still the same girl."

"You'll always be our little girl," Mom said, a tear sliding down her cheek. She was always over-emotional.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not that little, Mom." I sighed. "I'm the height of the average woman, and I've stopped growing, so yeah, I've reached full maturity. If this were 200 000 years ago, I'd be a mommy with kids and a partner and stuff."

Mom sniffed. "Luckily, times have changed."

Dad patted my shoulder. "Tell Link I said hello," he winked, and dashed out the front door.

Confused, I turned to Mom. She had the creeper face on—chin tucked in, brows raised high, thin lips curved into an evil grin.

"So…" she began casually. "What'd you two do yesterday?"

There was no lying to my parents. After all, they _were_ analysts of the human mind and behaviour.

"Oh, you know, the usual." I fiddled with my cup, embarrassed. "Just messing around, annoying pedestrians and theatre guests alike, getting kicked out by a jealous, hormonal, teenage boy, donating to the poor and receiving from the rich, and then annoying more people in quaint Italian restaurants."

"What a day," Mom exclaimed, hands clasped together, and her creepy grin getting creepier by the second.

"Aren't you angry? I mean, I _did _go out with a boy my age, attempted to watch a movie at the theatre in peace, but that didn't work out, so then we ate dinner at a restaurant."

Mom's smile didn't falter. She nodded ecstatically.

_"__Dinner," _I slowly repeated. _"Movie." _

She sipped her cup. "What about them?"

I sighed. Best not to let her know. "Never mind, Mom. Can we have eggs for breakfast?"

She half-hugged me and kissed me on the forehead. "Of course. I'm glad you've befriended kids your age."

"What friends?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Still the same as ever."

**…**

After a quick meal of bacon, eggs, toast and hash browns, there came a knocking on the door.

"I'll get it," Mom said, setting down her fork. She was still eating, and I was at the sink cleaning my dishes.

Wanting to get out of housework, I stopped her. "No, it's okay. I'll get it."

She looked shocked again. I never got the door, simply because nobody seeks Zelda Nohansen for company.

"Probably just some salesman," she said, sitting back down.

I scoffed, "Do those jobs even exist anymore?" then turned around the corner, opened the door, and felt my heart drop.

"Hey."

Stunned into oblivion, I stared densely at him like he was a dinosaur brought back from the past. I never expected to see him the next day.

_Say something! _

"Hey." I attempted to act nonchalant by stuffing my hands into my pockets. Then I realized I didn't have pockets because I was in my embarrassing elephant-patterned pyjamas. Trying to cover the blunder, I itched my thighs, pretending that was what I meant to do all along.

"Am I—am I too early?" Link asked, eyeing me in my colourful mismatched pyjama set.

Feeling like an idiot, I smiled. _When in doubt, smile and nod. _"No," I said.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? Why are you nodding then?"

"I mean, yeah. I just woke up. Still in my PJs," I gestured flamboyantly.

"I can see that." He nodded without contradictions.

"I didn't know you'd come back so soon," I winked, meaning it to be a joke. Misha would've done that, and it was clear that she had a crush on him. Not wanting him to find out, I slammed the door shut to hide my reddening cheeks—a sign of my hidden desire.

"Oh, honey, who was that?" Mom called from the kitchen.

"Nobody," I said immediately.

The door knocked again. I squeezed my eyes shut. Why did I shut the door?!

"Hey!" I opened the door, grinning.

He looked confused as ever. "What's going on Zelda? You shut the door in my face!" He didn't sound angry but amused. "Do you want to hang out or do you want me to wander off?"

Trying to soothe over my awkwardness, I smiled pleasantly. "I forgot to tell you I was going to change before shutting the door."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes really." We stared at each other. Our eye contact lasted more than usual.

He coughed.

I looked away, realizing I was staring into his soul.

"You can come in. Just hide from my mom. _She_ _will ambush you." _

"Yes. I do remember your mother. Very smothering in her mothering ways." Stepping cautiously inside, Link felt out of place in a house he was momentarily banned for two and a half years. He eyed the walls and ceilings, nodding at the new renovations Mom did over the summers. "Someone's been making her nest fancy."

He turned his head to me. "Me? No way. I'm the least suitable person to design the interiors of people's houses."

"I remember you were so good at art."

"I don't paint much anymore," I lied out of modesty.

"The red paint fiasco." He elbowed me in the ribs. "Those were the good ol' days."

Just as I was protesting his touchiness, Mom poked her head out of the kitchen door.

"Look. A disembodied head," Link stated, and I giggled hysterically.

She grinned her creepy grin again, and bad thoughts of Happy Counselor Woman popped into my head.

"Link!" She cried, running as fast as she could in her high heels. In a moment's notice, she was hugging him tightly. "It's so good to see you again!"

I muffled my laughter as her arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him like an anaconda. He pointed at her blonde head and mouthed _smothering me._

I shrugged my shoulders and watched with amusement.

"I haven't seen you in forever," she said, diving in for another hug.

Link sidestepped her advances. "Oh, you know, Zelda needed to isolate herself from society for a couple of years."

I glared at him.

"I'm glad you're bringing her back to it, then," Mom said and patted his back. Her shrill motherly voice flipped on. "Now, you take her out to places, and I'll pay you twenty bucks."

"Mom!" I shouted. "He's not an escort. He's a friend."

Link smiled at the word 'friend.' I punched lightly at his shoulder. _Don't get too smug about it. _

"Oh," Mom looked at me with a Your-Secret-'s-Safe-With-Me face—mouth gaped, a hand covering it, eyes widened and glistening. She winked. "You two have fun. I'll leave you alone now."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mom."

Seeing her dance around the corner was funny. I imagined her singing in her head, "my daughter's out of the house. _Finally!" _

With a third party gone, we were alone.

"So," I said.

"So," he said.

"I guess you'll stay here while I go change?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Okay."

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, which caused my toe to bang into one of the steps. I cried out in pain.

"Are you okay?" He called.

"Yea. Just stubbed my toe." I called back, rubbing it and cursing my hastiness. I wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible so I could go on another adventure with Link.

Running into my room, I grabbed a brush and ran it through my messy hair, saying ouch too many times as the brush snagged on the tangles. With that nearly impossible task accomplished, I whipped open my wardrobe and searched for something—anything—that looked somewhat decent on a sixteen year old girl who was going out with a boy she liked. I sighed. All I saw were ugly, over-sized and outdated sweaters and T-shirts. I frowned at the many tank tops hidden in a pile of loose jeans. _Too revealing._ At the back, a flash of purple caught my eye. I pulled it out, memories washing over me as soon as I took in its shape. It was the very dress I wore to our graduation together. _Yeah, right. I'm not going to wear that on our second day together. _

"Zelda! How about this? It's so elegant and classy. Just like you," Mom said.

We were at an old thrift store. A punkish looking girl with electric blue hair was at the counter, texting to her boyfriend or someone, and ignoring her only customers.

At fourteen, I made an obsession of graduating our crummy middle school and finally going to high school. To make a point, I wanted my grade eight graduation to be absolutely perfect—perfect hair, perfect shoes, perfect dress. The dress was _the _prominent and final piece that held everything together. After searching at expensive beauty boutiques and cheap department stores to no avail, the thrift shops were our last hope.

This was our fourth visited thrift shop. Mom began getting anxious and pulled out anything that came to mind. To my dismay, she even asked me to wear a _very_ revealing little black dress.

"Really, Mom? Am I really going to wear a floor length dress to a grade _eight _graduation? This isn't prom, Mom."

"It's on sale. Maybe we can buy it for your prom?" My mom, being the opportunist she was, asked me hopefully.

I looked over the soft green dress. "Are you _kidding _me? This is something you'd wear to a Renaissance fair. _Not _to a party," I cried in exasperation. The four hour long shopping trip was taking its toll on me.

"Maybe you'll like this type of style in the future," she suggested.

"Uh, no."

Just then, the lazy punk girl glided to us.

"Hello! My name's Moniqua. See your holding a bargain in your hands, Ma'am," she said to Mom.

Mom raised her eyebrows at me. _Told you so._

"It's a magnificent piece. Crafted in the seventies and following the exact procedures in Medieval Times, this baby has been in mint condition from its owner—who, may I say, never wore it once. No one searches for fantasy garment here, and it's been gathering dust, so I decided to sell it cheaply in the hopes of someone finally buying it."

"What'dya say, Zel?" Mom asked again.

She was persistent. I sighed. "Sure. Whatever. I'll wear it for Halloween."

"_And _it can serve as your graduation dress," Mom added.

_"__No," _I said. "Definitely not."

"Why not?" Mom whined. She sounded like a baby.

"Mom! I'm not going to a social convention where everyone judges each other on popularity and beauty in _that. _I'd get bullied, I'm sure of it. Can't I look somewhat normal in the most important event of grade eight?"

It was her turn to sigh. "You're right. I'm not seeing things too clearly. Grade eight graduation was not a big deal back in my day."

"Back in your day, dinosaurs still roamed the earth," I joked.

"Ha ha. Very funny. You gotta try harder than that, Zel."

"Hey, Monique," I said.

"It's Moniqua," she said, slightly irritated.

"Moniqua," I corrected, annoyed at her anger over a name. "Are there any formal, modest looking dresses lying about in your shop?"

"Sure. How about this one?" She pulled out a bright yellow, polka-dotted dress. "From the forties."

"Something more sophisticated?" I suggested.

She went across the room and gathered red, purple and black dresses of varying shapes and sizes. I put them over my chest, imagining what I'd look in them. My imagination was pretty limited.

"I dunno, Mona," I said.

"Moniqua," she corrected.

"These dresses aren't suiting me at all."

She examined me. I felt weird as she looked me up and down with a critical eye.

"Purple's so your colour," she said at last. "Here. I have something in the back. I'm betting it'll fit perfectly on you."

She disappeared and emerged later, carrying a lump of shiny fabric.

"_That's _my dream dress?" I said dubiously.

Unfolding it, she put it against my skin.

"See? Your colour."

"Let's see if you fit it," Mom called across the store. She was still looking at the clearance section.

"All right. If this fails, I'm just gonna go in a potato sack," I said to myself.

Taking my jeans and top off in the small change room, I glanced at the purple dress with doubt in my eyes. Purple wasn't my colour. I always looked so washed-out and bony in it. Nonetheless, I decided it was worth a shot.

As the silky fabric flew over my skin, I imagined myself as a skeleton in loose clothing. To my surprise, that wasn't the case for once. I looked in the mirror and gasped. The dress transformed me into another being.

Running out of the change room screaming cries of joy, Moniqua and Mom looked alarmed. I had finally found my dress at last!

"Honey," Mom said, rubbing my shoulder as I hugged her. "You look so beautiful."

"Thanks, Mom. Apparently I don't look beautiful in anything but this dress I'm wearing right now."

She laughed at that.

"This dress was designed for a famous actress in the fifties," Moniqua droned. "Sadly, she never wore it because she believed the colour was too bold, the hemline too short. Luckily for you, you are small than her. If she were your size, she would've been happy with the hemline," she smiled.

"Can I get it, Mom?" I asked.

"That depends…" I looked at her with horror. I knew what she would say next. "How much is it?"

"Eight hundred and sixty dollars," Moniqua said flatly with a take-it-or-leave-it flare.

"No way!" Mom said.

"Please, Mom?"

"Absolutely not."

I tugged on her arm. "C'mon."

"A dress you'll only wear once should be cheap."

"I'll wear it on different occasions," I insisted. "Buy it, please?"

She grew silent, studying my face, undoubtedly reading my expressions. At last, she slumped her shoulders, defeated from my charms. "All right. How can I refuse my only child?" She said.

And that was the story of how I got my beautiful graduation dress from a blue haired girl who possessed a strangely pronounced name at a sketchy looking thrift store. I smiled at the silk fabric, remembering the whole event like a scene from the movie.

With fondness, I put it back in its special spot—out of view and hidden. Maybe one day I would wear it in the hopes of capturing the stares of a certain man. But for now, not so loose sweatpants and a medium sized green T-shirt would do.

"Link!" I called. "I'm finished."

"What took so lon—_woah._"

I blushed. _Stop that, _I scolded._ He's probably thinking about your not-so-fit-figure. _

"Yeah. I'm not used to looking the part of a normal person," I said modestly, wringing my hands. "I've always been an outcast."

"What are you saying?" He put his arm around my shoulder. "You've never been a misfit to me."

**…**

Since he basically did all the spontaneous planning yesterday, it was my turn to decide what we did. Always the indecisive one, I shrugged my shoulders and said "I dunno" each time the topic arose.

"Zelda. What are your favourite things now? Do you like books?" He asked.

"I didn't change that much, Link," I clarified. "Of course. You saw me reading one on Thursday."

"How about we go to the library?"

"And do what? Finish our homework? Read loads of information on a relaxation day? I think not."

"Yeah. That does sound boring. I'll lead up to you to decide."

My mind raced. What did one do on a Saturday out on the town?

"Oh, I know! Movies," I said as we passed the same theatre we went to yesterday.

"Too boring," Link yawned. "And besides, didn't we complain about their crappy services yesterday?"

"How about we complain to the manager?"

"Nah. Too much of a hassle."

"3-D movies?"

"Makes me dizzy."

"The art gallery?"

"Too quiet. I need to catch up and goof it up with you."

We fell silent. I was content with what he said. _Goofballs again, _I smiled.

"How about the zoo?" I finally asked as we walked by the park. The exotic looking flower captured my eye, and I envisioned a beautiful elephant next to it.

"Splendid idea!" He cried suddenly after entertaining the thought. "Could we grab Aryll? I forgot to mention that she _loves _animals. And she's been begging me for weeks about going to the zoo before they lock the animals indoors in the winter. Is that okay?"

I hadn't seen Aryll in such a long time. I was curious as to what she was up to. "I don't mind at all," I said.

We turned around and started walking towards Link's house.

"She's all grown up now," Link said proudly. "I remember teaching her how to talk."

"She'll always be your baby sister, huh?" I admit, I was always jealous that Link had a sibling and I had zero. Since Dad was allergic to cats and dogs and Mom hated anything that was hairless (joke's on her—Dad's balding), I never had pets to keep me company but inanimate objects, which I talked to like the creepy girl I was.

"Gotta let 'em grow, you know," Link said happily. "Dad's always on her case saying that she's growing too fast and stuff, and Aryll gets annoyed by it, but don't we all get annoyed by fussy parents? Mom's busy on her fancy over-seas business job too care about Aryll, and I'm pretty sure Aryll hates it. She misses Mom dearly, but whenever she comes home, she just goes on this hatred grudge mode where she won't talk to Mom as a form of revenge for neglect. I always tell her someone's gotta put bread on the table, and it it's definitely not Dad because he's _the_ stay-at-home Dad."

Searching for something to say took me a long time to respond. So much information in such little time! "She'll forgive them when she matures," I assured.

"Yeah. She will," Link agreed. "So, yeah, that's an update in my household."

"I'm nervous," I said aloud. "How do you think they'll react?"

"You're overthinking things again," he smiled. "I'm sure they'll greet you with open arms like they always do," he paused to think. "I dunno about Aryll, though. She's getting into that moody teenage phase. One moment she's the happy little girl she once was, and the next she's the most depressing person on the planet."

"Oh, no. I'm pretty sure that _I'm _the most depressing person on the planet."

He laughed. "How so?"

"You know so," I nudged him playfully with my shoulder.

"Yeah. Sure," he nudged back. "The girl who shouts at people when they interrupt her bubble of noise intolerance, ignores everyone, doesn't give them a hand, and talks about the most boring topics in existence."

Another nudge. "You know me too well."

He nudged back. "Of course. You've always been my bestest friend in the whole entire universe!"

I gulped. I guess he didn't know me that well at all.

Instead of drowning in my misery, I nudged him back in the happiest tone I could manage. "You're my BFF," I grinned. "Big Fat Fuck."

He gasped. "Zelda! You've got a potty mouth. When did _that _happen?"

_During the summer of My Great Depression, _I wanted to say. But I bit my tongue and refrained from speaking such negative memories, nudging him in the shoulder forcefully.

"Ha ha. Nice try. You're gonna need a bulldozer to knock this tower down," he winked, and I rolled my eyes at his corny joke.

And so, we continued nudging each other like idiots on the street on the way to Link's house. Passerbys wondered if we were mentally ill and offered some assistance (they probably thought _I _was the ill one, and wanted to assist Link in escorting me to whatever place they assumed we were going—most likely a sanitarium). Others thought we wanted to start a fight, but we were waiting for a crowd to gather and place bets, so they stuck around and urged us on. This particular group of people followed us for about a minute, cheering me to rip my top off and tackle Link. I gave such a terrifying look that screamed _go away—_which worked like a charm from long years of practice. They scurried off, and Link and I decided the nudging had to stop.

"Rule number one of walking down creepy neighbourhoods: do not nudge in public!"

"Link, I'm pretty sure we weren't in a creepy neighbourhood since this _is _our neighbourhood. Those kids weren't in a gang or anything if that's what you're talking about. They were just letting their hormones take control of their bodies. That's why they went crazy and started bothering us."

He rubbed his neck. "Still. No nudging in public."

I gave an exaggerated sigh, signifying that I was joking with him. "If you want to form a contract of friendship, let's seek professional advice first and consult a lawyer."

That earned me a laughing episode from Link. He fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in uncontrolled spasms of giggles. An old couple walked by and curiously looked at Link. The man was about to say something, but his wife grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him away.

"ROFL," he grinned widely as he shot up, energized.

"What? Waffle?"

"No. ROFL."

"Huh?"

He spoke slowly. "ROFL. R-O-F-L. Rolling on the floor. Literally."

"Oooooh." I let his explanation sink in. "Weird acronym. I doubt anyone actually rolls on the floor laughing. With the exception of you."

"Yeah. I hope my Dad didn't see that. Quite embarrassing when your child is acting like a freakazoid in public."

I snorted. "I see him staring out the window with a disappointed and shamed look."

Link groaned, "Let's see what he has to say." I was about to say that I was joking, but he took my hand and dragged me to his doorstep.

Mom was gardening in the front yard. When she saw us, she smiled and stopped pulling weeds. "Back so soon?" She asked. "Boring adventures for the two of you?"

"Please, it hasn't even started yet," I said.

"Picking up a new recruit," Link added. Then he kicked his front door open and we were inside.

"Way to make an entrance, genius," I commented. The boot print on the pristine white paint stood out like a sore thumb.

"Dad'll clean it," was all he said. He ran up the stairs, and I followed after him. Our hands were still linked, and I regretted that my hand was cold and clammy.

"Aryll!" He called.

No response. We continued running through the hall.

"Aryll?"

"Boo!"

"AAAHHHH!" I screamed, tearing my hand away from his and towards my racing chest. I jumped two feet into the air, landing with a loud stomp, and a crash was heard shortly after.

Simultaneously, our heads turned to look at the shattered blue pieces of china on the glossy wooden floor.

"Nice job, Aryll. You made Zelda break our Dad's favourite vase."

"It's not _my_ fault she's fat and makes the ground shake."

"Aryll! That's rude. Watch your tongue."

"Nah, it's all right," I offered.

Aryll's glare made me shrink into an ant. The girl could stare at anyone and make them feel insignificant and uncomfortable. That was the very feeling I felt at that moment as she glared down at me (although she was shorter than me), and I averted her stare with all the smoothness I could muster.

"So, uh. See some new paintings up there," I gestured to a nice looking man with a broad smile and wisdom in his eyes.

"Yeah, that was our Uncle Conrad. He died," Aryll said flatly.

I conjured up the most popular saying when a loved one dies: "Sorry to hear that."

She ignored me as Link corrected her. "Great-great-great-great-great-_great_ Uncle Conrad."

"Yeah, whatever." She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"Remember Zelda?" Link asked, displaying me in front of his little sister for approval. I smiled and gave her a weak wave.

"Dunno, don't care," she said, then slammed her bedroom door in our face.

"I take it she doesn't want to go to the zoo?"

"Yes, Miss Obvious."

He nudged me. I nudged him back. And the whole nudging process started again as we walked to the zoo.

"She's going to regret it tomorrow," Link said as we sat down on a picnic table.

I unwrapped my chicken burger and took a huge bite out of it. With my mouth full, I shouted, "It's not _my _fault she went into bitch-mode today," in her whiney, accusing voice.

"Zelda! Language."

I shrugged my shoulders. "What's up with her, anyways?"

"Already told you."

"You know I forget the details."

"Mommy problems," Link reminded. "She's usually sweet on her good days, and whenever she gets her bad days—which is rare—she _does _go into bitch mode."

The happy smile of an eleven year old Aryll flashed into my mind. "She was always so happy."

Link dipped his fries into my spicy barbeque sauce. "Until Mom got a huge promotion and travelled internationally year-long. Workaholics as parents," he shook his head, "Not the best people to raise children."

"What is she now?"

"Some fancy CEO lady of Guess the Company."

"Guess the Company? Is that even a company?"

He grinned, leaning dangerously close to me. "Guess the company, Zel."

I smiled at my nickname. He hasn't used that in over two years. "I dunno. Malo's Mart?"

"No. Everyone knows the billionaire kid Malo runs that."

"Hey, I'm guessing," I objected. "Sera's Sundries? Barne's Bombs? Shop in the Sky? Trill's Shop?"

"You got it!"

Surprised, I choked on my drink. I spat out my iced tea and saliva mixture with a disgusting _blech_. "Which one?" I finally managed, trying to brush off that embarrassing moment.

Link leaned back lazily in his park bench, a feat impossible to do since there _wasn't _a backrest to lean into. "Trill's Shop. The famous oil company turned music store. God knows how that turned out, I'm just happy that my Mom finally acquired her final destination in her crazy career. Watching men in monkey suits battling it out to reach top rank is _such _a fascinating observation. Especially when you're a kid in Take-Your-Kid-To-Work-Day. It was funny watching my Mom shout at everyone who wasn't me for once."

I laughed. "Too bad I don't play any instruments. You would've given me a discount since I'm a family friend, right?"

"Nah. My Mom's too cheap. You would've paid full price."

"If I recall correctly, your mother _loved _me and always joked that she'd replace you with me."

"She was just being friendly."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!" I threw a fry at Link, meaning to miss him, but it landed directly in his opened mouth as he was protesting.

He wrapped his hands around his neck and made weird gasping noises, his face turning red. He was choking!

Immediately, I got off my seat and ran towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Suddenly I forgot my First Aid training courses. How did one perform the Heimlich Maneuver again?

"Do you need help?" A woman's voice asked. I didn't bother looking behind me. I was focusing on saving Link's life at the moment.

"No, I think I got this."

"I'm a trained lifeguard. We always do this sort of thing," she insisted.

Link turned around abruptly, not remembering that I was directly behind him. He fell straight on my stomach. Our foreheads bunked into each other, and a loud ringing noise emitted from my inner ear.

Link looked up, not minding his racing heart on mine. "Ilia?!" Link gasped, and I felt his heart skip a beat.

"Link?!" She gasped.

"Link!" I shouted, angry at his immature prank.

Then I saw the look on his face—shock, awe, and infatuation written everywhere. Curious, I gazed up to the mysterious woman named Ilia.

My stomach churned. Whoever this woman was, Link clearly had feelings for her.

And I was green with envy.

* * *

**I'm curious to what you guys guessed before our surprise character revealed herself, so tell me who you guessed it was? Or maybe not if you don't want to. Your decision. :P Also, if you could take the time, please tell me your thoughts on this chapter. I'd love to know if you like where this story is going with its first plot twist (many more to come!) **

**I hoped you enjoyed reading this chapter. Suffered major writer's block, but I ploughed through. ^.^**


	6. Chapter 6

**So I added other characters from other Zelda games. They are just the names and the appearances of them, not necessarily their personalities. Also, I would like to add, that there are/will be main characters in this which will closely resemble their characters in Twilight Princess, but since they are set in our modern day world and have to flow with the plot, there will be minor alterations. And if you're wondering why there are a lot of pop culture references, it is to create more of a realistic atmosphere.**

**An important note to all the Ilia-lovers out there: there will be a back-story behind Ilia. Please don't hate me for what you're about to read! **

* * *

**~ 6 ~**

* * *

The girl was undeniably beautiful by western standards. She had an ashen complexion—all pale and grey with the sharpest bone structure that belonged on the face of professional, world-renowned models. Tall and slender, she rocked the black maxi dress. It flowed behind her, dancing softly in the breeze as she glided towards us like a mourning ghost at a funeral. I imagined breaking her tiny waist like a twig then and there. Everything about her made me feel inferior in looks—especially her eyes.

I've always loved my eyes—they were my best feature that made me feel beautiful, mainly because it was such a rare eye colour, and I took pride in being uncommon. They were a dark aquamarine in close-up, but at a distance, they appeared to be grey on cloudy days and blue on bright days. If you ever leaned in closely, you'd see the flecks of dark green, creating pools of aquamarine in an ocean of blue.

But her eyes—they were a shining mint green as they stared at Link longingly. I hated its shape, its colour, because I knew that hers were simply dazzling with the combined cat-eye effect, and mine were almond-shaped grey ovals.

Link was transfixed by them. I shook his shoulder to snap him out of her hypnosis.

"I—I haven't seen you in forever," she said calmly, her arms limp by her side. Even her demeanor was sophisticated! Though, the posh English accent in her smoky voice could've been casting an illusion on me.

"You've changed," Link shot up from the ground, not bothering to apologize to me. "Last time I saw you, you were surrounded by a horde of journalists and an entourage."

So she _was _a model—or maybe an actor.

"Where are they now?" He continued.

"I've got body guards," she replied, gesturing to a huge man in ordinary clothing, subtly watching her and eating an ice cream cone. "I told Father that I wanted to have my personal space. They watch me from a distance now."

"I remember you were such an ordinary girl in my kindergarten class. Now look at you. An international actress!"

"Model," she corrected. "But I did have my fair share of movies, _The Masterblade, Last Princess, Lady Greensleeves, _to name a few." So _that's _where I recognized her from. "I might transfer into that stream once my looks turn old and grey," she laughed haughtily.

I crossed my arms and coughed.

"Oh, yeah!" Link said. He pulled me up with his hand. "Ilia, this is my long time best friend, Zelda." She put on her sunglasses (although the weather was very cloudy), undoubtedly scrutinizing me from head to toe behind them. I smiled nervously and waved at her. She curved her red lips into a perfect fake smile. "Zelda, this is Ilia, childhood friend, turned girlfriend, turned _ex-_girlfriend, turned supermodel."

I tried to hide my cringe from the word _girlfriend. Ex_ made me feel slightly better, but not by much. "So, you two dated?" I asked nonchalantly, pretending I wasn't the nosy creature I was.

"Only briefly," Ilia jumped in. "Oh, he was such a naughty little thing!" She pawed his shoulder suggestively. "If I knew he'd become such a big boy, I would've kept him around."

Link smiled. "Maybe you heard her at our school? She was attending in grades nine and ten, but then she ditched her high school career to further pursue her passion while going to university."

Pretty _and _smart. This Ilia girl had it all.

"I might pursue a Masters and Doctorate once my modelling gigs take a break," she smiled. "I've already completed my bachelor's under a year. Fast-paced courses, but I managed to absorb all of it." She waved her hand, as if earning a bachelor's degree under a year was the most common thing in the world. I bet you she was on the cover of some important people magazine.

"What brings you back to our sleepy town of Hyrule?" I asked with the most sugar-coated voice I could contrive. I was afraid if I didn't use my honey-sweet tone, my voice would be filled with venomous insults.

Link seemed to pick up on my falsity. He coughed.

"My parents wanted a visit from me, so I came back," another fake smile. "This town is so quaint. I can't believe I ever left it!"

It wasn't that quaint to me. It was more sub-urban. But then again, Ilia had travelled the world and slept in the biggest metropolises at the age of fourteen.

"Why do you have a British accent?" I asked, not minding if I sounded intruding. Compare that question to the other remarks stored in my head, it was the nicest thing for me to say.

Link backed me up. "Yeah. You and I used to live next door to each other. We were born at the same hospital, too."

"I stayed in London for some time," she smiled. I really wanted to slap her cheeky grins off her face. "Picked up the English accent to perform for one of my movies. After that, it just stuck! I think it enhances my personality."

Like her accent, her personality was the real deal.

"So you were in _The Masterblade?_" I asked. It was my favourite movie and I watched it countlessly, but I couldn't tell who she played as.

"Oh, yes! I was the young Princess Helda. You probably didn't recognize me because I was only six years old at the time."

"I was devastated when Ilia left me alone in kindergarten to play her part in the movie," Link grinned.

"I liked the older Princess Helda."

Ilia eyes popped up, "You _do?_ Good news, I'll be playing her in the next movie to the trilogy!"

That was _bad _news. "What happened to Hilda Mason?" I asked. She was my favourite actress of all time.

"Grew wrinkles," she wrinkled her nose, trying to act all cute and cuddly to Link. I rolled my eyes discreetly. Ilia didn't notice this, and she continued blabbing her head off. "She's too old to play as a teenager. I never liked her. In the games, Helda is supposed to have _blonde _hair. Not red hair! I'm glad they're choosing me."

"Is the actor for Zinc still on the list?"

She nodded ecstatically, her blonde head bobbing up and down. "That man's ageless. And guess what?" She gestured with her index finger, expecting me to lean in closer. "I get to _kiss_ him!"

A moment of repulsion appeared on Link's face. Ilia jumped excitedly in her painful looking heels, urging me to jump like an idiot too. I remained grounded, crossing my arms as she dug her nails into Link's shoulders.

He didn't seem to mind.

"Link, I think you'd make a _wonderful _Zinc. Your very appearance is the _perfect _depiction of him from the famous fantasy games. Plus, I wouldn't mind kissing someone I already kissed."

My stomach did a flip and a flop.

"Too bad I always turn down these stardom offers," he said numbly, regretting his pride.

"Hmm. This is true. If any talent scouts come seeking you, remember to say yes!" She winked, and her hand slid off his shoulder. "Anyways, I must leave and attend quick photo-shoot with _Hylian Time _magazine. Ta-ta, my lovelies!" She blew a kiss at Link and waved at me.

Even her farewell was staged.

"She seems…" I started, not sure of how to describe her in a polite way.

"Fake." Link read my mind.

"Yup. She's a fake," I said. "By the way, nice prank there. You_ totally_ embarrassed me in front the beautiful Ilia."

"Yeah," Link muttered, turning pink. He walked away to gather our garbage and throw it in the trash can.

I waited patiently for him. Our sightseeing of imprisoned animals was over for the day, and, in my opinion, it ended _terrifically _with his ex-girlfriend showing up and bragging about all the wonderful things she did by the age of sixteen. I felt pretty bad about myself when compared to her. Unaccomplished and jealous were the two words that described me as she rambled off into her own personal achievements. What did I do at her age? Sit around and do nothing. That's what.

I replayed the conversation in my head, using my hands as puppets to express what I really wanted to say.

_"__I was the young Princess Helda and I get to replace Hilda Mason's role, who is a way better actress than I am. I'm also a brilliant genius with amazing looks and social skills! Oh, and I really want to kiss Link, not Zinc!" _Said Ilia Lefty.

Zelda Righty slapped Ilia Lefty with brutal force. _"Quit yer bragging and go back to London, whor—"_

"It pains me to see her like this. She's so different from when I last knew her."

I turned around abruptly, seeing Link talking to me with such a sour look on his face. It disheartened me to see him this way. Honestly, I thought he was ecstatic that his beautiful model ex-girlfriend showed up in our hometown again, allowing an opportunity to reconnect with his old flame.

"The cash, the fame—all of that stuff can go to a person's head and completely transform them," I consoled. "So, uh, why didn't I know this girl?"

Link looked at me strangely.

I shrugged my shoulders. "What? I'm curious. I never saw her in person before. And I never knew _you _knew a movie star!"

He sighed. "What do you expect? She knew my mother, which in turn led to her fame, which in turn led to my fame."

_"__What?" _I shouted. Seagulls flew off the ground, startled. I clamped my hands over my outburst. "Why didn't I know that you were a famous person?" I whispered, angry for some unexplained reason.

He laughed. "I'm only famous because I dated her in grade nine."

I cast him a skeptical look.

"And ten."

"Huh. I never saw you two around."

"She was under an alias," he said. "She was off doing gigs all the time. She rarely had time for school."

"What was her name?" I asked.

"Arden Kasey Rowland," he said. "Top grades in the school."

"I never knew her, but I knew that name and hated it since she was better than me in school," I frowned, ranting like the jealous girl I was. Realizing what I was doing, I distracted him quickly with another nosy question that came out with such bluntness it would've offended him if he didn't know me so well. "Anyways, what happened to your relationship?"

"Our relationship was a secret since, like, forever. Then it came out and craziness exploded."

"The paparazzi started stalking you?" I teased.

"Some guy took a picture _with my top off!_" He growled. "They were so fucking annoying. I _had _to call things off. Ilia made a show _out of my life_." His hands thrashed about in frustration. I ducked as one of his gestures almost hit me in the face.

He stared off into the distance as I waited for him to calm. His fists and jaw unclenched and he turned to me as if he was a new person, the angry Link gone in a flash and the normal Link smiling crookedly with his eyes downcast.

"I'm happy she's out of my life, Zel. I'm happy I'm with you again." He opened his eyes and looked at me.

I couldn't help but gasp.

"What? Is there a wasp near me or something?" He did his crazy dance to check if any insects were buzzing near his body.

"No, no, no!" I cried, waving my hands about. "I just—I'm happy to be with you again, too."

**…**

The next day, Link and I were at his house. His father, surprised to see me, immediately swooped down and bear hugged me, my feet flying in the air. Link's dad had such tremendous strength that he picked me up with ease. Familiar to the embrace, I patted him on the back, as if getting hugged and held in the middle of the air was part of my daily routine.

"It's good to see you, too, Arn," I laughed.

He set me down and smiled. "Where've you been hiding Zelda, Link?" He boomed. "Haven't seen this little lady in forever!"

Link ruffled my hair affectionately. Once again, my hands shot up to defend my styled hair. It was our third official day together, and I thought straightening my hair wouldn't hurt any chances in appearing to be a part of the modern day _homo sapiens_.

"I've been hiding her under my bed," Link muttered. "See ya, Dad." He grabbed my hand and led me to his room upstairs.

"Woah, woah, woah! _Hold it." _

We turned to see an anxious Arn.

"If you go up there, make sure you keep the door opened," he demanded. "Or else no video game privileges for a week."

Link groaned. "_Daaad_. It's not like we're making out," he blushed.

I found their interactions very amusing. Seeing Link in a state of powerlessness had never occurred to me before, with him being the top dog at school for sports and friends. Heck, even the _teachers _couldn't resist his charms.

"Still. No monkey-business. Got it?"

"Fine. I guess you'll just have to hear guns firing at a _very _high volume," Link said, and then we continued our incline.

Aryll shot me a menacing glare from her doorway. I cowered behind Link, using him as a source of cover from her line of sight. She could burn a hole through a wall, and I definitely didn't want one to burn through me.

Link snickered. "Aryll freaking you out?"

I nodded.

Since Link and I had a weird telepathic bond, which occurs between two close friends, he sensed my nod and I sensed his smile.

"Don't worry. She won't bite."

We entered his room, which was quite large and very different from my last visit. A small bathroom to the side, and a mini fridge and microwave area made his room into a small apartment. Link wasn't the messy boy he once was. His little nook for reading books was still in the corner by the window, but they were actually on the shelf this time—in alphabetical order! I was amazed.

"Where's the spaghetti sauce, the discarded clothes, the empty chip bags and pizza boxes?" I asked, bewildered.

"Cleaned 'em up. Dad was on my case a while back. Enrolled me in his private cleaning boot camp, and I became a specialist." He plopped down onto a nearby, orange couch. It did not match his blue and grey modern décor of his room, and stuck out like vomit in a fancy restaurant. About to comment on his poor taste in colour, I shut my mouth as I remembered why he kept it in his new and improved room. It was the couch where I shared my first alleged kiss with Link Ordon in grade eight, a complete catastrophe on my part as I developed feelings immediately after that kiss whereas Link continued living as if nothing had changed in our relationship.

Thirteen at the time, I was as awkward as ever. Limbs too long for my torso, I resembled a squat potato with chopsticks as legs and arms. Feeling self-conscious, I followed Link wherever he went and became his shadow.

He became increasingly popular with his shaggy hair, bright smile and adoring blue eyes. Girls in our classes whispered on his good looks and admired his athleticism from afar. Sometimes their eyes landed on me, and the sides of their mouths twitched in contempt, or they looked away quickly, crushed that another girl beat her to the punch.

Catching on, I detached myself from Link for a while, believing it was the right thing to do. Girls wanted to be with Link romantically, and I was ruining their chances by appearing as a threat. For a week I went about the school in utter silence, reading, writing and thinking—most of my thoughts always lingered to Link, and then I felt sad immediately after. Again and again, I reasoned to myself I was doing a favour to all the girls at our school by this selfless act. A sacrifice, I called it, but Link viewed it as an act of abandonment.

He confronted me on my seventh day alone. I enjoyed the feeling the loneliness and the absence of chatter that was constantly around Link. I wasn't necessarily happy to be alone; I was satisfied to hear the thoughts from my own head and not the thoughts of others.

I noticed I missed Link dearly when he confronted me. At the time of his bitter confrontation, I sat at the front steps of my porch, basking in the autumn sunlight and wrapped in a warm quilt, and I enjoyed a hot cup of cocoa while writing my historical analysis of the composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

"Zelda." He greeted coldly.

I looked up, astonished at the lack of joy in his voice. Link was constantly in high spirits and never one to greet with a solemn tone.

"Link?" I asked, eyes widening. He was unrecognizable. Bags were under his blood-shot eyes. Upset at his appearance and the assumptions that he either cried or stayed up into the late hours of the night, or maybe even both, I immediately knew that I was the source of his lack of sleep.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He sniffed, and sat down beside me.

I offered him some warmth with my quilt, and together we shared my cup of cocoa. He wrapped one side around his shoulder and the other around mine. Our knees were touching, and I was content with being by his side again. _Inseparable like conjoined twins_, I smiled. The worry in Link's eyes melted away as soon as we started talking about our little misunderstanding, which lasted hours. Poor Mozart eventually had hot chocolate spilled on him, but we didn't notice as we rambled on.

I confessed my awkward situation to him with much stammering and apologizing, beginning with my thoughts on how every girl wanted to be by his side at our school, and that I was preventing them from achieving their happiness.

"I—I thought you might like a girlfriend, too, so I stepped away to give them a chance," I said, blushing at the silliness of my beliefs. Why did it sound so good in my head, but terrible once I tried expressing them verbally?

He wrapped his arm around me. "Why would I need another girl by my side if I already have one here?" He smiled that adorable crooked grin.

I blushed.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry I did that. It was stupid of me," I said.

"It was thoughtful of you."

I nodded slowly, not quite believing him.

"You don't believe me."

"Read my mind," I shrugged.

"Okay. Let me demonstrate an example." Hands shot out of his blanket, and he commenced his familiar hands gestures, explaining each sentence with a new movement. I watched his thin fingers with amusement, letting his words sink into my mind. "If any girl were in your place, she would not be as thoughtful as you. She wouldn't do anything to allow any other girl get to me. She would keep me all to herself, while letting all the other girls suffer and never getting a chance for a shot with me. But you," his finger poked me and I giggled, "_you_ are the most thoughtful girl in the world. You sidestepped out of the way to allow the others get a chance to approach me, which happened and was an immense pain in the butt (thank you very much, Zelda!), but I have to tell you this. I rejected all of their requests to 'go out'. Instead, I moped around all day thinking of you. And that's why you are thoughtful about others, even to strangers."

I looked bashfully into my cup, seeing the reflection of a smiling girl.

"I just wanted to help the most people," I admitted. "_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."_

"Zelda! You're such a nerd." He nudged me.

"Too bad you aren't multiple people morphed into one," I joked, nudging him back playfully.

He grinned, pumped his fist into the air and shouted: "Utilitarianism for the win!"

We both laughed at his sudden outburst. Followed by the chaotic noise of giggling was the comfortable silence Link and I shared.

"Yeah," I said finally, smiling. "I'm happy you're happy again."

"And I'm happy that you're happy to be happy because I'm happy," he said flatly, stating the confusing truth.

And we both stared into the cider sky, watching the clouds illuminate into warm colours of pink and orange. I eventually leaned my head sleepily onto his shoulder, sighing, wishing that this moment would last forever.

But the sun finally set and the hour of twilight arose, colouring the sky in a paradox of blues and gold.

"Zelda," Link said, and I looked at him with curiosity. We hadn't said a word for at least thirty minutes. We only stared at the tranquil skies, wrapped in a blanket, oblivious to our surroundings. We didn't notice the hot (now cold) chocolate stains on the stone steps. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to my small get-together tomorrow?"

Hurt at his delayed question, I frowned automatically. "Why didn't I know of this sooner? You always invite me to your parties."

"You were avoiding me, remember?"

"Yeah. Right. I forgot about that," I said quickly. After much debating of whether or not I should go this time, I decided that going to his party would reboot our relationship prior to this week. "Okay. I'll come," I said.

Although I hated parties and always lingered by the wall watching everyone dance and do crazy things, I accepted Link's invitation to his small get-together, which, as I realized upon arrival, wasn't so small after all.

People were packed like sardines. It took me tons of shoulder shoving and a total of five minutes to get from the entrance to the kitchen. Everyone was deaf by the blasting music coming from everywhere, too preoccupied by trying to look cool through dance techniques and finding a big group to jump in, and with zero doubts, their chatter, loud cheers, and repetitive music woke the entire neighbourhood. I was glad my parents were on a medical meeting that night. They would have never allowed me to go to the party.

"Zelda!" Link shouted through cupped hands. He was in the living room, sitting on a couch with a group of kids our age I've never seen before. "Over here," he waved for me to get there with a huge swoop of his arm.

More shoulder shoving followed as I attempted to maneuver my way to the L-shaped couch.

Four girls, two natural blondes and two dyed bleach blondes, lounged around sipping red cups of a foul smelling beverage. Upon closer inspection, I realized that two of them were in grade nine and another in grade ten. Only one girl was my age, and she glanced up and down at me with contempt written in her clown-like face.

I was about to suggest that she tone down the heavy eye shadow and red lipstick, but an unfamiliar arm wrapped around my shoulders and I froze at the touch.

"Hey, Link. How about we play spin the bottle?" He asked. "We've got five girls and five boys."

"Yeah, Link!" a girl said, fluttering her lashes at him. What followed was the chorus of agreements. I remained silent, watching Link's expression.

He stared incredulously at me and finally said, "Sure. Why not?"

Then he led the small get together upstairs to his bedroom, ignoring the rest of the anonymous guests who continued acting wildly. A chubby topless boy with drawn on glasses flew down the railing with a broomstick in his hand and a shirt tied around his neck. As he whizzed by us, he shouted "SUPER-HARRY-POTTER-MAN!" and landed with a crash on the ground. Everyone cheered at him for his remarkable, ridiculous feat.

Link continued marching up the steps, his small group of VIP guests following. One of the boys still had his arm around my shoulder. With distaste, I shrugged his sweaty hand off me and ran up beside Link.

"What's spin the bottle?" I asked him.

Two girls sniggered behind me.

"She doesn't know what spin the bottle is?" One asked the other.

"What a loser," the other responded with a laugh.

Link stopped in his tracks, turned his head around momentarily, and stared at her coldly. "Ardie," was all he said.

Clown make-up girl Ardie looked away immediately. "Sorry," she muttered.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her green eyes flicker with resentment—towards me. I quickly turned my attention back to Link.

"So…you spin a bottle, I'm presuming?"

"Kinda," he said. "It's an easy game. You'll find out once we get it going."

He opened the door to his room, breaking a very intimate moment. Two people were sitting on the bed, staring into each other's souls. They didn't even look up when the door opened.

"Do you wanna…" the girl slurred.

"Yes, yes!" The boy said eagerly. He was a scrawny little thing, and a hand was on the girl's thigh.

"Okay, then," she said, and then began taking off her shirt.

Link stopped her.

"Out. Both of you."

The scrawny boy protested.

"Out!"

He frowned, shoulders slumped as he walked out the door. The tall, curvy brunette followed, casting Link a flirtatious smile as she stumbled.

"Walter Quinten and Chelsea Farrar?!" One of the boys in our small get together exclaimed. "Man, her boyfriend's gonna beat him up once he finds out about it."

Ardie laughed a fake laugh. I cringed at the high-pitched giggle.

"Okay. Let's get this game started!" A blonde shouted.

They formed a circle on the floor. Link pulled me onto an orange loveseat before anyone else claimed it.

A redheaded boy smiled at me. Muscular, tall, and with stunning looks, any girl's heart would flutter. But not mine. I viewed him as a one of those poser kids who wore their caps backwards and flashed their boxers for the world to see.

Nonetheless, I smiled politely at him.

He wiggled his eyebrows.

I inched closer to Link.

"_Liiiink!_ Why don't you sit right here?" Whined a bleach blonde girl, patting the enclosed space next to her. The roots of her hair were a dark chestnut brown, very similar to my own hair colour, and her tips a hot pink.

"No, Sid. I'm good right here," Link said.

She pursed her cherry red lips, trying to pout like a model. It failed, as she resembled more like a puffer fish than a model.

Ardie laughed again with the others as a short, squat boy chugged the remaining contents of a glass bottle. I assumed we would be using it once he finished with it.

"Chug, chug chug!" They began chanting.

Confused, I joined in, urging the overweight boy to continue drinking.

"Chug, chug, chug," I said dishearteningly, sounding more like a caboose with my unenthusiastic mumbles.

Once he was done, he let out a long burp. The girls yelled e_www _while the boys started laughing. Some complimented on his pointless talent, the two boys next to him giving him pats on the back.

"Nice one, Cawlin!" exclaimed the muscular redhead.

He burped again and handed the bottle to the lanky boy next to him.

"Here. You can spin first," he said, slightly hiccupping.

He gave a twist with the bottle. The neck landed on Ardie.

She sighed, a look of disdain on her clown-like face. "Go ahead and kiss me," was all she said as he leaned over.

We all watched awkwardly as he planted a wet kiss on her lips. Weird smooching noises were heard, and that's when she pushed him away, her mouth smeared with her own red lipstick.

"Get away from me!" She scowled, and he grinned, the lipstick also on his teeth.

That was one way to get rid of her clown appearance.

It was Cawlin's turn next. It landed on the other bleach blonde, her hair streaked with vivid shades of red, and his face lit up with such pure happiness that it was contagious, making everyone grin. The girls _oohed_. The boys laughed as his face turned bright red.

He quickly leaned over and pecked her on the cheek.

"Nice one, Karane," Ardie winked, and the girl beside her giggled.

It was Karane's turn to redden.

The girls started their gossip. Cawlin remained quiet while his two friends talked about football. Link nudged me.

"Do you get how to play now?" he asked silently.

"Spin the bottle, whoever it lands on, you kiss."

"Fast learner," he said sarcastically, leaning into the puffy backrest.

I leaned back as well. "What can I say? I'm a genius."

"My turn!" Shouted the muscular boy suddenly, disrupting the quick intermission.

He spun the bottle with such force that it looked as if it would spin forever. It slowed down eventually, circling twice before it lost momentum, deciding whether to choose me or Link. It landed on…

_Me?_

My eyes widened in surprise. They widened even more when he had his hands on me, shoving his mouth, which tasted slightly of bacon, onto mine. I allowed him to kiss me for five seconds to follow the rules of the game. Then I attempted to get him off, but he continued kissing me in front of everyone. I felt the heat crawl into my face.

"That's enough," Link said, tugging him away from me.

I gasped for air, feeling slightly shaky. "H—how long was that?" I mumbled, relieved that it was over.

"Never been kissed before," cackled Ardie. The other girls laughed along with her.

"About half a minute," Link replied.

I looked at him with horror and wonder. _Why didn't you stop him sooner? _

He looked away.

"Guess it's my turn," he said cheerily, and he spun the bottle with the flick of his wrist.

I slumped back into my seat, reflecting on why Link didn't save me like the many times he did before. He knew I was in distress. Whenever he sensed there was any problem I had, he helped me through it, rescuing me from the disasters I had inside my head or in the external world. Why didn't he stop the kiss?

The girls groaned, bringing me back to reality.

"You got the ugly one," the lanky boy snickered.

Link shot him a menacing look. That shut him up.

He turned towards me. "Zelda, you're not ugly. Don't listen to them," he whispered.

Confused at what he was talking about, I opened my mouth to say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but before I could say anything, his lips landed on mine.

* * *

**Yes, I know the Ilia part was a bit over the top and wacky, but what can I say? I needed to create a _very_ strong character foil/source of conflict for Zelda. Those boring teenage cheerleaders and mean girls are so cliche in these types of stories, I decided to go a different route in order to create more interesting sub-plots and struggles. **

**I attempted to show a flaw of Link in Zelda's flashback. I hope someone out there spotted it. Additionally, Zelda compensates the bad memories by thinking of happy memories. I wonder if anyone saw that, too. I'm trying hard on characterization, and I think I'm improving overall in my writing. **

**Let me know what you guys think! :^)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'd like to thank tswift1fan for putting _Loveless_ on the Modern Legend of Zelda AU's community. That really made my day. ^.^ **

**I'd also like to thank everyone for following, favouriting or reviewing my story. It really shows that people are actually reading my work, and that they're enjoying it, so a million thanks! :D**

* * *

**Update #1: Since I disliked what I had originally written, I went back and edited/revised this chapter. It's shorter than its original counterpart, but I'm more satisfied with it like this because it is extremely significant in regards to character development and progression. You'll see what I mean when you read it. :D  
**

**Happy reading!**

**IMPORTANT UPDATE (Update #2): ****Okay, ****so I got mixed responses from a variety of readers. Some were all for the rewrite, others wanted the original to be finished, and some wanted the rewrite _after_ the original was finished. I've decided that I'll continue with the original, and then rewrite it in the future. As of now, I am only going to rewrite a bit of chapter 7 and maybe a bit of chapter 8, and scrap chapter 9. So here we go! **

**~Chameleon Eyes**

**PS: for those who already read chapter 7, the old chapter 7 is still in here. But I did rewrite a major scene (Link crying) so if you don't want to waste your time reading on something you read, I advise you to read after Zelda and Link play video-games. **

* * *

**~ 7 ~  
**

I didn't have a sense of time during the kiss. I didn't have a sense of my surroundings either. All I felt was his warm lips on mine, becoming increasingly hotter as our faces heated in embarrassment. My eyes closed as I melted into it, my heart slowed its fluttering beats, my mind racing with all sorts of thoughts and questions. It eventually dulled until the warmth pulled away, and I was left out in the cold, my heart and mind racing again, and the giggling whispers of the others intruded my hearing.

"She's blushing!" Sid said to Ardie, sniggering.

Ardie was unimpressed. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "We can all _see that_, Sidney."

_Why am I blushing? Why is my heart racing so fast? _

"Zelda?" Link asked.

I looked at him. As soon as I saw his eyes, I glanced away.

_Why can't I look him in the eye? _

"I don't—I don't feel well," I stammered. "I'm gonna go."

"But it's your turn now!" Karane called.

By the time she said it, I was already out the door.

**…**

"Zelda?"

"Yeah?"

"You've been standing there for a minute now."

The all too familiar heat rushed to my face. I covered it with my long hair, hoping to conceal its giveaway "Sorry, I was just thinking about something…" I murmured.

"About what?"

"Nothing," I said quietly, approaching him with caution. Did I dare sit in the same seat we shared years ago? The very seat where we first kissed?

I sat down next to him. He probably didn't remember.

"C'mon, Zel. Obviously something's on your mind when you just stand there thinking."

"Well…" I began. "Remember when we—"

"LIIIINK! It's for you!" Arn bellowed. "Some pretty lady's here to see you."

"I'll get it later," Link waved. "So you were saying?"

"Remember when we first met?" I finished, chickening out and changing my question at the last possible moment.

"Oh yeah! Kinda embarrassing that I played tea party," he laughed. "What about it?"

"I realized I never thank you for giving me Wolfy all these years," I said, remembering the stuffed animal I still had. Then, feeling generous that day, I pulled him into a hug and whispered _thank you._

When we separated, Link smiled that all too familiar Link Ordon grin, and patted my shoulder. "I've been missing your hugs, Zel. Thanks."

I didn't know what he meant by that, but it made me smile.

"LINK!" Arn yelled.

"I'M COMING DAD, JUST HOLD YOUR HORSES," Link hollered back. "Wonder who it is." He rolled his eyes, bouncing off the couch. "Probably Misha."

If it was Misha, I hated her and loved her. She ruined my confession, and I doubt I'd ever get the courage to bring it up again. But I remembered I never wanted to confess to Link, and I was grateful she interrupted my impulsivity.

"What are _you _doing here?!" I heard Link hiss from downstairs.

Curious, I tiptoed to the hallway and leaned out the door. Link's voice was so loud that anyone could hear it from miles away.

I saw Aryll, who was in a similar position as me, and she turned around, sticking her tongue out before resuming her eavesdropping. I resisted the urge to blow a raspberry at her direction, and concentrated on the mysterious visitor's voice downstairs.

The shrill fake laugh ringed high into the air. I shuddered.

"Hey, Link. Is this a bad time?" She asked, her voice barely audible, but I detected the elegant English accent. My stomach churned in disappointment. _Ilia._

"No," Link said. "And I'm not going to take that damn photo shoot with you. So go!"

The door started to close, but a hand flew out and stopped it with a loud _bang_. "Oops. I didn't mean to make it that loud!" She giggled.

He sighed. I imagined his broad shoulders slumping in defeat, his eyes staring at Ilia questioningly, willing to listen to her protests despite his own mixed emotions. "What do you want?" He asked bluntly.

There was silence for a moment, Link undoubtedly fidgeting with something in his hands as Ilia managed to conjure all her acting skills to persuade Link.

I crept up to the stairwell, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Aryll followed me, and we both sat indiscreetly at the top of the steps.

"I knew you didn't want to do it, but my agent insisted," she excused, and then added rather hastily, "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. Just like old times."

My heart cartwheeled. _Don't do it. I want you all to myself!_

He sighed again, unhappy with the current situation. He scratched his neck, pondering on whether or not he should crush her heart or become her minion. _I_ knew he didn't want to, _he_ knew he didn't want to, but he said yes anyways.

"Fine," he said. "Not today, though. I've already got plans."

"Oh, Link! You're the best!" She squealed, and then bounced up and down, clapping her hands like a trained seal. She pulled him into a ginormous hug that lasted more than two seconds, the recommended hugging time between friends and acquaintances, and said flirtatiously, "You won't be let down," she winked, and then walked away.

He stared after her sauntering figure, and when she was out of view, he slammed the door shut angrily. "Why did I agree?" He tore at his hair, frustrated, and turned around to see us in the most undesirable spot.

"What are you guys doing?"

"I was just following Zelda." Aryll shrugged, and then pranced off before she was interrogated further.

I laughed nervously, hoping he'd let me off the hook. "I was curious who interrupted us," I confessed, unable to mask the pain in my throat. "That Ilia girl is a real something, isn't she?"

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"You can hang out with her today if you want to," I interrupted, walking down the steps and averting his worried gaze. When I reached the bottom, I looked him in the eye. "Tell her I said hello."

I started towards the door.

"Zelda, wait." He grabbed my forearm.

"What?" I stammered, my voice betraying me. Why was I so miserable, jealous and such a terrible person? I had no right to get angry over Link and Ilia's relationship, no matter what it was, no matter their feelings for each other.

And yet I lingered, hoping for the response I was searching for.

"I…" he trailed off, bashfully staring at his shoes. "I want to be with you. I've said it so many times, Zel. Ilia is acting like Ilia the Celebrity. She's searching for publicity through _me." _ His hands flew to his chest in exasperation.

"So?" I questioned, not quite believing him.

"Look," he grabbed my hand. "I'll tell her that I don't want to see her."

Realizing at what I was doing, I turned red for my insensitive actions. I was only looking out for my own interests, and never considered what Link and Ilia wanted. He could handle this personal situation without my intrusion.

"Never mind." I shook my head, my hand covering one side of my face to hide my embarrassment. "Just forget it. Forget what I said. Do whatever you want with her."

"I only said yes because I didn't want to hurt her feelings," he replied hastily. "Stay with me, Zel. Don't leave."

I sighed. Why did I bring my emotions into this? "Okay. Could you let go now…please?"

He released my sweaty hand, unaware that we held hands for a total of thirty seconds.

"Now what?" I mumbled, more to myself than to him. An awkward situation was barely avoided, and I felt ashamed standing in front of him after my unquestionably strange and random outburst.

"We play some video-games."

And, like the rebel he is, he grabbed my hand again and led me upstairs.

**…**

"Oh, no! It's Hepta!" Link groaned.

It had been two hours since we first started playing the amazingly awesome fantasy game The Legacy of Helda, and it took forever for Link to meet the pirate girl who was actually a princess.

I cast him a smug look. "What's wrong with Hepta? She's a very complex character and by far my favourite Helda character…after Helda herself, of course."

Link laughed. "She's secretly Helda, dimwit!"

I rolled my eyes. "I _know _that. Beat the game over five times, remember?"

"Hepta's hair is disgusting," Link commented as Hepta crossed her arms and winked at Zinc.

"Looks like someone highlighted her hair and pissed on it," I replied.

"I think I'd be the one to piss in it."

I shoved his shoulder. "Oh, _really? _Then why did you have such a huge crush on Helda, _who's actually Hepta?" _A smug smile crept up on both our faces as Link understood his contradiction.

"Hepta's a pirate. I'd never date a pirate. I prefer princesses over pirates."

"And I prefer pirates over princes."

"And I prefer you over Ilia."

_Oh, no! Don't bring that up again._

I had forgotten about our misunderstanding within two hours' time, and Link referring to it made the memory fresh in my mind. I reddened out of shame, embarrassment, and the lingering question that I tried to keep at the back of my head.

_Does he like me?_

"What happened to you and Ilia?" I asked instead. "Why the hate? You looked so happy together at the zoo."

He sighed. "I already told you."

Shrugging my shoulders, I attempted to appear nonchalant as I leaned back into the ridiculously puffy cushion, which encased me as my back sunk into it, and I popped a Doritos chip into my mouth. "I have a memory of a goldfish."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You have amnesia."

_"Duh." _My fingers flicked him on the forehead.

"Hmm…well, I shall remind you, my little goldfish."

I prevented my lips from twitching upward. "Uh huh, you go do that."

"Ilia was—" he started, but then stopped himself as a sigh escaped his lips. "I don't know if I should tell you," he continued. "It's really complicated."

"C'mon. We're best friends, aren't we?" I bounded onto my knees, flashing him my biggest, most trustful smile.

Eyes downcast, he smiled shyly. "Okay, _fine_. I'll tell you a bit about her. And answer questions if you have any."

"Good. Because I have a lot like…where did she come from? Why is she so fake? And how is she good at everything?"

"_Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them_," Link said, quoting the brilliant playwright William Shakespeare.

"So Ilia is like the Leonardo da Vinci of today? Good at modelling, apparently good at acting, and very, very, smart. In what fields, I don't know. Probably _all _of them," I retorted.

"She's _amazing _at history and English. Whenever I listened to her speak about an event, it's like she's telling a story in which you can actually envision, and it feels real. It's like actually being there at the time of the event," he gushed. Realizing that he was ranting about how great his ex-girlfriend was to his friend who obviously disapproved of her, he stopped himself with a little _ahem _before he could comment on how fabulous her hair was. "That's what degree she got, if you haven't read the tabloids and magazines."

"You know I don't read that stuff." I crossed arms, upset that even _Link _read that useless crap! "Why do you read it, anyway?" I asked suspiciously. "Are you stalking her?" I leaned in closer. "Do you still have _feelings_ for her?"

"Wow. I so don't like how you're taken this seriously."

I smiled mischievously. "Any question answered, remember?"

"Well, I read it because Aryll reads them, and whenever they're lying around, I happen to flip through them," he began. I stared incredulously, wanting to hear the more important things. "And yes, I read every article on Ilia," he said quickly. "She stopped contacting me for quite some time when I rejected her, but I still loved her—as a friend," he added, eyeing me carefully. I nodded, hoping I looked expressionless. "And then she showed up, acting as if nothing happened between the two of us during that brief period of time."

"Okay…" I started, thinking things through. "So you and Ilia were childhood friends, you attended the same school us me, managed to hide your relationship from everyone, and then, as Ilia's popularity as a model grew, she asked you to model with her, and she rejected you. Correct?"

"Affirmative," he replied with a robotic voice.

I responded with a nudge to his shoulder, and then continued to unravel the mystery of Link and Ilia's mysterious relationship.

The interactions which took place between the two were confusing. When Link's heart quickened at the zoo, was it out of lust, remembrance of their past romance, or surprise? Ilia was obviously infatuated by him. I could tell when someone was in love with Link because _I _was also in love with him. You knew his idiosyncrasies, the little mannerisms he had like when he had an idea in his mind, he'd fall silent and quiet, and when it was thought through, he'd bounce up onto his two feet, and share it with the world. When he concentrated hard, his tongue would stick out onto his top lip, a little to the left side, as he jotted down mathematical equations or thought out any hard solutions from everyday and miniscule problems to the mysteries of the universe. His grins and laughter were always genuine—he was always happy and cheerful, and viewed the optimistic sides of things. And whenever he did grin or laugh, you'd also grin and laugh, because it was that contagious. You'd be able to recognize the two different types of smiles—his sly, joking, and crooked grin, or his cheeky, genuine Link Ordon smile, which was one of my favourites because it defined him as _him_, the excitable, happy go lucky boy I've always known and loved. Whenever I saw that, I felt happy too.

"I think I should draw that smile and paint it," I said suddenly.

"What smile?"

I turned to him, surprised that he was still there, and that he was watching me ponder. "Your smile," I said, turning a bit red, embarrassed that I said it aloud and how _stupid _it sounded verbally. One did not simply paint a smile and frame it on their wall!

I expected a twist of annoyance from his face, like what everyone did to me whenever I had an amazing idea that slipped from my head and into my mouth. Instead, he smiled cheerfully, his eyes turning into crescent moons. "I think I want to capture the moment of you thinking," he said, pointing at me. "I _want _to call it funny, because it just makes me smile, but it _isn't _funny. It's…it's," he searched for the word.

"Funny-looking?" I suggested.

He shook his head, and his tongue automatically went to his upper lip. Suddenly, he sprung up and moved to position me. "Here! Do it again!"

Reddening further, I leaned back onto the couch and waved my hands frantically as he advanced, his face coming closer and closer. I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes, feel the warmth on his arms as they came into contact with mine. "Wait, wait, _wait. _Why don't _you_ do it?" I finally gasped, glad that my breathlessness was over.

"Because it's what you do," he said. "I can't do what you do. It's your own little quark."

"_Quirk," _I corrected.

"Yeah, whatever. The point is, it's your own little…" he waved his hand toward him, encouraging me to finish his sentence.

"Idiosyncrasy?"

"Yes, precisely!" He smiled his own idiosyncrasy, that wild grin I loved. "Now, could you do it for me? I won't touch you or anything." His hands flew up as if he were surrendering.

"I—I'll try. But I don't know what I look like when I think."

"Just think," he suggested.

And so I did. I continued thinking about Ilia. She _was _a mysterious girl, and perhaps I had the wrong first impressions on her and judged her too harshly. She was like the girls at my school at an entirely higher level. Snobbish, changes her views to appeal to others, wants to be popular, attention-seeking, and obviously attracted to looks rather than charm. She was vain, too. She trotted about in high fashion with makeup, and my jealousy clouded my judgement because she really _was _pretty, and all that stuff covering her face just enhanced it. And how _did _she become so successful? Through bribery, through riches, through connections? Maybe she worked her butt off in order to obtain her dreams, which she succeeded due to discipline and determination? Maybe becoming a top model while tackling a degree at the same time was tough? I didn't really know her. So I didn't understand her _entirely. _But she was the type of person who, upon entering a room, her presence either enchanted or annoyed you. Link was enchanted. I was annoyed.

_Click_.

Blinking, I fought against the colourful splotches of my vision. Did some bright light just appear out of nowhere? Once my vision cleared, I saw Link holding an old fashioned camera enthusiastically.

"What was that for?" I said, slightly irritated that, without warning, a flash of light temporarily blinded me. "And what kind of camera is _that?"_ I pointed to the red and yellow camera, a model I was unfamiliar with and looked slightly childish.

"Here," he handed me a photo and sat down.

In it was a woman sitting, her legs crossed with her shoulders hunched over. An arm laid in her lap while another supported her chin, her small hand holding it delicately. She gazed into the distance, troubled, her small mouth downturned and brow furrowed. She looked vacant and distant, but something in her eyes indicated liveliness, activity, a mind of dynamic possibilities which had to be solved and answered.

"Hey, that woman's _me," _I realized, feeling stupid for not realizing before. Link had just took a picture of me and handed it to me right after! Maybe the light disoriented me too much for my moment of mental tardiness.

"Yup. That's you all right. Zelda in the zone!" He appeared suddenly from my right shoulder. "And for your information, that camera right there is the Deluxe Picto Box, which was a complete pain to get."

I looked up. "And what did you have to do?"

"I had to capture some fireflies in a jar as payment to Lazlo when I was twelve," he sighed, his chin resting on my shoulder. I tried not to tense. "Good times, good times."

We both stared at the photo for a while. It was really weird. I was staring at myself, something that I tried to avoid due to my distaste in vanity and zero interest in how I appeared, and Link continued looking over my shoulder, gazing at the photo with an incomprehensible expression. Finally, he smiled crookedly, and I turned my head slightly, my hair tickling his face.

"Gah! Zel, your hair." He pulled away, and retrieved out a long strand of hair from his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry," I almost shouted, tying my hair back into a ponytail.

"It's all right. I'm used to it. That's what happens when you have a dog for a pet. There's dog hair there, dog hair in your food, dog hair on your clothes, in your shoes, in your mouth," Link rambled aimlessly. "But let's forget all of that, shall we?"

"All right." We were silent for a moment, staring at the photo again. Except this time I felt _way_ more uncomfortable as I took a closer look. I realized how unflatteringI looked. My nose was too long, my mouth too small, my ears big and pointy, and that angle wasn't doing anything for my face. It made me look like a man!

"So what were you smiling about?" I asked, trying to distract him before he realized it, too. "Before, you know, I fed you my hair."

"I already told you," he grinned. "This little quirk of yours makes me smile."

"Ah. The thinking pose. I never knew I did that." I pointed to the hunched shoulders. "Makes me look like a hermit."

"Aw, Zelda. You're too hard on yourself. I think you look…" he smiled again as he gazed at the photo. "Cute."

_What?! _

I felt a rush of emotions as he said that. Happiness, joy, excitement, nervousness, to name a few. But the most prominent feeling was my heart beating uncontrollably in my chest, my breaths shaky as well as my jittery knees. And I tried to conceal it, but failed as my face reddened with heat, which transformed to splotches as I whitened from the nervous break-down that was happening right now in front of Link. Then a whole bunch of crazy ideas came into my head as I sat there, frozen in place. Did that mean…?

"I gotta go," I squeaked, beginning to get up from the seat. "It was nice talking to you."

"Hey, wait!" he grabbed my hand.

"No!" I ripped my hand away from him. "Sorry, but I need to be…alone. Again."

"Zelda," he whispered. He looked lost and confused, and his eyes contained the hurt and sadness in his voice. "Stop running. You always do this," he pleaded.

"I know," I whimpered. "I always do this. And I should stop it. But I can't. It's how I deal with my—my problem," I said, my heartbeat quickening.

"And what's your problem? We can talk about it if you want." He gathered my hands into his again. I flinched at the touch.

_I love you. I've always loved you. _

"I…" I started slowly, barely audible, and uncertain if I wanted to say it. He looked up at me, encouraging me to finish. And I stared into his hopeful eyes, not wanting bring tears to them.

Like the coward I was, I remained silent, drew my hands away from his, and walked out the door.

* * *

**_Here_ is a pretty good chapter. Out of all the three chapters I've written for this one, this version is my favourite. We all agreed that Link's random emotional outburst was very...random and emotional, right? So I scrapped that and replaced it with Zelda's emotional outburst that isn't so random. We all know she's shaky whenever she's around Link, yeah? Anyways, I tried putting that in there. And there's some foreshadowing for that too, so hopefully it isn't random to you.**

** If you don't see an update note for chapter 8, it's inconsistent with this chapter 7. xD You'll be confused as I haven't written the new chapter 8. As for the old (second version) of chapter 7, I'll save it for now and do something with it in the future when Zelda and Link aren't on unstable territory and in the early stages of their new and strange relationship.  
**

**Sorry for delaying the story. T.T School's been tough around this time of year, and I've been having second thoughts on improving _Loveless _immediately, but the rewrite will have to wait for a few months or years. **

**I _will _finish this, unless something terrible happens to me like illness or death... o.o Just so you know, I have the WILL POWER TO FINISH ANYTHING—despite my procrastinating self—I WILL FINISH THIS! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Update: Version no. 2 of Chapter 8. Enjoy!**

* * *

**~ 8 ~**

* * *

Once I arrived home, I masked the tears welling in my eyes.

"Hey, Zelda!" Mom greeted cheerily from the kitchen table.

"I got you your new game," Dad added.

I turned away from them, saying nothing. I didn't want them to see the tears rolling down my cheeks, the quivering lower lip, the pain in my eyes. I didn't want them to hear my voice crack, the inevitable hoarseness that came with the suppression of sobs. I retained the cry of frustration and misery, and it formed into an unbearable lump at the back of my throat. I swallowed it painfully, and tried not to run up the stairs.

At last! My room was within arms reached. At the end of the hall which never seemed to end, my sanctuary awaited. I took brisk strides to my room, and almost ended up running towards it. Finally, with a triumphant fling of the door, I entered, flew across the room, and landed onto my bed.

I was ashamed of crying. I didn't want the tears to fall, but they did, and the breathless gasping followed shortly. I stuffed my face into the pillow, hoping to muffle it. And as my tears wetted my old pillow, I started thinking. At first, I felt sorry for myself. All those chances to finally say the evadable, evaded!

The first opportunity was when those feelings of love awoken in me. If I weren't such a scaredy cat and one of the shyest girls in the world, I could've spoken up and say "I love you" to Link at the age of fourteen, living happily ever after by his side in high school. But, no. The thought of love was overwhelming, and I stupidly second-guessed that he didn't return those feelings. But what if there was a chance that he did? I'd be happier. Those two and a half years of loneliness wiped away.

But the years of loneliness did teach me a valuable lesson. Independence. I could do anything by myself. I wasn't dependable on people. I knew what was right and what was wrong, even if peer pressure pointed in the wrong direction. And I could see the truth in a veil of lies and deceit.

Perhaps it was for the better. Perhaps I wasn't supposed to be with Link. Ilia was obviously the perfect choice. In fact, they _did _date, but he called off the relationship because of unwanted exposure to the media. She was perfect for him. Sociable, smart, charming, sophisticated, popular. What did I have to offer to Link? I was cute—not beautiful, elegant, or poised, but _cute. _The only nice adjective to describe an ugly girl. That was about it.

_No. _He said it cautiously, as if he_ didn't _want to say it, as if the very word would make me skittish. Maybe he knew that I liked him? Maybe he liked me back…and hinted at it? And my first reaction was happiness when he called me cute! There's the slight possibility I'm crying tears of joy. And there's the chance that he views me more than a friend!

I groaned. _No._ He wouldn't. He'd come out and say, it wouldn't he? And besides, that's wishful thinking.

I jammed the pillow into my face repeatedly. It was such a silly thing to cry over! A stupid boy calling me cute. Why am I crying over that? Such absurdity!

With a huge sigh, I willed my mind to be blank. It was a mess with thoughts going in wild directions. That was what happened when I felt down. When I cried, I basically told all my sorrows to pillow, thinking about all the random bad things that ever occurred to me, and all the events, people and places that were related in a very pessimistic view point.

I lifted my head away from the pillow and wiped the tears away from my eyes. _Stop being such a crybaby! _I thought to myself. _Just go to school tomorrow, pretend nothing happened, act normal around Link, and everything will be okay. _

With my mind in a semi-blank state, I drifted off to sleep.

**…**

The next day was slow. I awoke from my bed in a trance, feeling groggy with a pounding headache. The warmth of the bed urged me to stay in its embrace forever. But Mom soon barged in, whipped the curtains opened with a loud _swoosh_, and then she pulled the covers off me.

"Mom!" I curled into a ball, trying to retain the little warmth I had.

"Get up," she said coldly.

"But–"

"It's _eight_, Zelda. Eight! You have only ten minutes to get ready!"

With effort, I lifted myself up and sat at the edge of the bed. I yawned methodically, rubbing my eyes. Nothing took away the side effects of depression like a nice, big, old sob fest.

"Okay, Mom," I said.

"I'll see you after school, okay?"

I nodded, and then slowly got up. I trudged to my wardrobe, rummaging through and grabbing whatever looked like a T-shirt and pants.

I was unfeeling for most of the week, and so it went by quickly without me ever knowing it passed by. I barely registered how I ended up at school in hideous clothes (even by my standards!), with a neon pink T-shirt and unwashed sweatpants on Monday morning. I could smell the stench of old Cheetos wafting through the air whenever I sat, walked, or stood. And between classes, I walked through the school like a zombie, not even bothering to flash my glare at anyone who clogged the hallways with their useless by-standing.

The only person who got me out of my trance was Link. Whenever I saw a wisp of shaggy blond hair, I ducked my head, averted eye contact, and slouched my way out of whoever's line of sight it was. Only once did I allow myself to look back…just to catch one of Link's smile. When I did, I was disappointed and amused at the same time. The person, who I thought was Link, was a tall, thickly built girl with a pixie cut.

I sighed. I was obsessed and avoidant at the same time. I _wanted _to go up and talk to him, to look at him, to be with him, but at the same time I wanted the opposite. I wanted to pretend he never existed. What a confusing contradiction!

He kept his distance. In psychology class, the only class where we're situated next to each other, he moved in the empty seat in front of me. It was distracting seeing him there, right in my line of sight. Just a shoulder tap away…

"Zelda," Mr Renado called.

My hand leapt back towards my chest, trying to calm my startled heart. "Yes, sir?"

"What is the id? - since _no one_ can answer it." He looked around the class accusingly.

"Uhh…uhh…" I sputtered, searching for the answer. "The id functions impulsively, and usually seeks pleasure and desire for immediate fulfillment."

"Correct," he replied. "Now, class, let us talk about the superego…"

I leaned back in my seat and sighed. I couldn't even answer the question, and my mind was drifting off in class! That was so unusual of me.

I crossed my arms and looked out the window, seeing a grey sky speckled with illuminated clouds. The weather was disheartening, I wanted to go home, and nothing could take my mind off that cowardly situation I was in yesterday. And the very person I had that situation with was in _all _my classes. I fixated my gaze at the back of his head, daring him to turn around and say hello. I stared for a total of ten seconds before finally giving up. This week was going to be a _long _week.

When school was over, I walked on the other side of the street, away from Link, who was walking home with a pack of guys and a couple of girls. I watched the odd group for a while. He was oddly quiet – staring at his shoes or at the clouds. The others danced around him, occasionally bursting the sound barrier with a piercing shriek. I decided to stare at him again.

Suddenly, I noticed the group staring back– all but Link. My head immediately turned to look down at my boots, as if I've been doing that all along. There was no fooling them. I heard the whisperings of my name in their voices. Link didn't respond to the questions they poked at him.

He didn't even _notice _me. It was like going back to square one! Frustrated, I turned my head to the skies. The clouds were plumper now, threatening to spill their tears. The horrible memory of last night came back to me. I cried my eyes out last night, and I _hated _crying. Signs of such weakness should be suppressed!

I lagged behind the group, not wanting to become a part or hear their gossip.

When I finally arrived at my house, Link's cronies were nowhere to be seen. He was at his mailbox waiting for someone. The mailbox remained unopened as I cautiously stepped closer to the gates. I went as slow as possible with the brief hope he'd talk to me, but at the same time, I wanted to bolt through the front door.

"Wonderful weather, right?" Link suddenly asked as I opened the gate.

"No. I don't like cloudy days," I mumbled, and stood awkwardly beside him. "They're depressing."

He smiled, pleased that I didn't rush indoors. "I love cloudy days. It casts the world in an entirely different light. It's darker, and colder, and a great thing to have as a break when it feels like every day's sunny."

"Sunny days are overrated, huh?"

"Everyone loves them. It's time to give the cloudy days a chance," he replied. "And besides, the rain is the best part."

"I don't like it when it rains."

"The soft pitter-patter sound, the way it gives life to plants and the variety of rain you can have, like pouring showers, soft raindrops, and thunder storms? Rain is amazing. Even the science behind it is interesting."

"It's like the sky is crying," I responded. "And when there's a storm, it's like the sky is throwing a temper tantrum with the thunder and the crack of the lightning right after."

"Link!" a girl screeched. We both turned our heads to see a redhead leaning out the front window of Link's house.

"Coming!" he called, and then he turned to me, smiling. "I'll see you later."

I watched him walk away, feeling oddly lonely. After about a moment, I took a step forward, and as I moved, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. I retreated indoors quickly, muttering on how I hated cloudy days and how the rain trapped people inside.

For the remainder of that evening, I finished all the homework I had. It was weird how I thought it was boring. I was always excited with learning new things, but this time, I stared at the pages full of incomprehensible words. My mind was blank and so was my notebook. It took an effort to finish it all, and by the time I was done, it was seven o'clock.

"Zelda! Dinner's getting cold!" Mom called.

I was oblivious of my surroundings that I didn't even notice Mom and Dad were home. "What's it this time?" I asked as I went down the stairs. "Meatloaf?"

"No. Your standard spaghetti meal," she replied. "Get yourself a plate."

I watched her walk into the study, where Dad was probably working. Whenever my parents were in there, they requested not to be disturbed because that's the only place they could transform themselves into workaholics. I respected their wishes, and stayed away from that room. It was full of old and dusty books on psychology. Though interesting, I suppressed my temptations and usually roamed around the house and relaxed in the backyard.

I looked out the window. The rain was falling heavily, drowning the flowerbeds Mom had planted last spring. The tulips hung their heads low, trembling from the attacking wind and rain. In a way, I felt bad for the tulips, and desperately wanted to go outside, scoop them out of the dirt (now mud), and put them in a flower pot.

Deciding to do just that, I grabbed the ugly raincoat and rain boots at the back of the closet, and walked outside. There was an immediate temperature drop, and my body trembled as a response. _I'm doing this for the sad tulips, _I reasoned, _and besides, I need to decorate my room._

Next to the shed, the old flowerpots happily smiled up at me. I wanted to smile back as I bent down to get them. Fond memories rushed forward as I gazed at the lopsided grins.

**…**

"Hi," I mumbled. I made a new friend, and I didn't know how to deal with one.

He stuck out his hand. I simply stared, unsure what to do with it. Then, with his other hand, he grasped mine and clasped it onto his outstretched hand. "Hello," he grinned widely. "Nice to see you again."

"Y—yeah."

"Go on, honey. Go and play," Mom said sweetly. I stared up at her, pleading to go back inside. She didn't pay attention to me and began speaking to Link's mom. "So, Medilia, why'd you choose to move here?"

"Yeech. Grown-up talk." Link twisted his face into a huge frown and I giggled.

"Link," Medilia scolded.

Mom smiled, saying that it was okay. "Go ahead, Zel. Go and show Link your new paint set." She nudged me forwards, and I reluctantly stepped towards Link. "It's nice to have a neighbour who's the same age as Zelda," Mom continued. "Before grade two starts, I'm thinking that we can all go to Lon Lon Ranch and see the livestock for fun."

He suddenly grabbed a hold of my hand and led me to a bunch of empty flower pots near the shed. I looked back at Mom, who was a thousand miles across from the yard.

"What are these?" He took a pot in his hands and examined it.

"Those are for flowers," I squeaked. Link balanced one on his head, and I gasped as he recklessly walked around with it. "What are you doing? Don't break it!"

I almost snitched on him as it fell from the top of his head. He quickly caught it with both hands, and my lungs collapsed before I could yell _Mom._

"Didn't expect that now, did'ja?"

"No," I murmured. "Stop messing around with the pots!" I shouted as he continued picking each and every pot up, examining them like he never saw them in his life.

"My mom _never _gardens. These are new to me," he said as he twirled one around in his hand. "You can really see how they made it," he commented. "You can see the lines where the hands went and everything. It's as if someone already designed it, and we just have to colour it. It's like a…like a..."

"Colouring book?"

"Yeah!"

"If you want, we can paint them…" I offered humbly. "I can show you that paint set my Mom was talking about."

"You sure? I mean, I am _terrible _at all things related to art. I only draw stick figures."

"Can you draw smiley faces at least? I think the pots need a smile."

"They're a bit crooked." Link smiled his first lopsided grin, and I laughed.

"Like that?"

He smiled wider.

I giggled uncontrollably as he continued making faces. A sad one, an angry one, a happy one. All of them were cartoonish and hilarious!

When it was all over, I gasped for air. "Can you—can you paint those faces onto the pots?"

He flashed a pose. "How about I be your model?"

"Nah. I think I want to see your art abilities."

The smile wiped away from his face, and his eyes widened. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm bad at art. I'm going to ruin your pots!"

"Stay here!" I grinned mischievously, and trotted into the house to grab the paint set. When I emerged, Link had stayed put, and was now examining the flowers.

"So we just take the flowers," he began, "and then put them into the pot? How're they gonna survive? There's not enough soil!"

"Uh," I replied. "I don't know…"

"I don't want to kill the flowers!"

"We don't – we don't have to put flowers in the pots. Pots can be pretty, too, even if they don't have flowers as accessories."

Laughing at my statement, he stood up and snatched the paint set out of my hands. "Wait until they have makeup – applied by the one and only, _me!" _

For the rest of that summer day, Link and I painted ten flower pots. Five of them had the crazy eyes and wide mouths flashing a variety of smiles, all painted by him. The other five had the generic childish sun – a round yellow ball with rectangles surrounding it to form the sun's rays. Purple and pink flowers were painted at the bottom of the pot, and growing green vines reached high into the fluffy clouds at the top.

When we finished, we both watched the paint dry.

"That one," he pointed at one of mine, "is my favourite. Sunglasses on a sun? Isn't that self-contradicting!"

"I think I like this one," I said, my finger landing on the painted nose. "You did a really good job in bringing out the features of the pot."

"Thank you. Now he has a funky design on his nose."

"I'm sorry!" I gasped, pulling my finger back. The tip was purple, and I looked at the pot to see the damage I had done. My fingerprint gave the squashed-in nose effect to the pot.

"Nah. I think it looks better."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You've got the artist's touch."

We both smiled in silence before Medilia called Link's name.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, smiling crookedly.

I stared at my toes, and mumbled, "'Bye, Link."

**…**

The paint was chipping and faded, but the smiles still held on, even on a bad day such as this.

I ventured into the shed and found a gardening shovel to dig out the flowers' roots. It was finally time to put the empty pots to use, and I never understood why we never threw them away.

Squatting near the flowerbeds, I got to work and began digging around the first tulip. When the soil was easily moveable, I took the clump of dirt and roots and dropped it into the first pot.

By the time I was on my fourth pot, a door, whipped by the wind, slammed opened. I looked up, and saw a tall figure leap across the fence dividing our lawn and Link's. I immediately glanced away and continued digging.

"Hi, Link," I said. When I saw the red-painted shoes out of the corner of my eye, I looked up at him, the raining hitting my face with ice cold drops.

"What are you doing?"

"What are _you _doing? I'm saving helpless flowers."

"I saw you out here and thought you might like some help."

"What happened to everyone else?" I grumbled.

"Dad shooed them home."

"Haha. Arn." I smiled, shaking my head. That man _hated_ Link's friends. Too reckless, too noisy, and too much PDA! I could see his point of view clearly, because that's how I viewed them, too.

"Do you know where I can find a hoe?"

I stared up at him, shocked.

"You know, a hoe _is _a gardening tool."

"Wow. Just _wow. _A joke that's demeaning to any group of people – gender, race, religion, or whatever – is _so _immature and disrespectful. I can't believe you would say such a thing!" I could tell I was angry now, because I stopped shoveling and my hands were balled into fists. I glared up at him, ignoring the cold rain hitting my eyes.

A flash of guilt across his face, and he looked away, ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered. "That would've been funny to Misha and the others, but not you."

"I've a different sense of humour," I responded. The heat licked the back of my neck and worked its way to my ears, and I continued shoveling in the hopes of distracting my embarrassed thoughts. "What's funny to others isn't always funny to someone like me."

"Okay," he said. He stood awkwardly above me in silence.

"There's another gardening shovel in the shed," I suggested, hoping to make the conversation a little less unsettling.

He disappeared, and I had time to urge my hands to stop shaking. At least the cold prevented me from blushing excessively.

"Beautiful weather, huh?" He reappeared, and sat down next to me with shovel in hand.

"Restarting our last conversation we left off at, or was that another joke?"

"A serious conversation starter," he replied. The shovel dug around a yellow and white tulip, and the mud stained his fingers. I looked at his arms. Then at his chest. He wasn't wearing anything but a jacket that was _so _not waterproof. It was already soaked!

"Are _you crazy?"_ I asked as he continued digging. His hands went into the mud, and emerged, cradling the drowning tulip in his hands. He plopped it down into the pot before answering.

"Says the girl who's gardening in heavy rain."

"Well, unlike you, _I'm_ actually wearing a raincoat."

"Which isn't very waterproof," Link added. "Thought I'd speed up your gardening process so you'll get back indoors."

"Go back inside," I insisted.

"Hey, look, we're almost done!" he exclaimed, quickly digging. He uprooted a couple of flowers and inserted them into the pots. "Three more to go!"

"You know, saying everything in an excited voice doesn't make the situation of cold rain, strong winds, and soaked clothes any more fun than it already is."

"Two more to go!" he said, and continued to dig. The three pots were still empty.

I sighed, already giving up. What was the point in trying to stop him? No matter how much I tried, Link always managed to keep on going, even if I used my menacing glare on him.

Nonetheless, I glared. He was under the mercy of my scrutiny.

"There! All done –" his eyes landed on mine, and I forced myself to continue glaring. "Have you been staring at me the whole time?" His brow rose in questioning.

"Yes," I said firmly. "Surprised you didn't notice."

"Hey," he shrugged his shoulders, "I was trying to save helpless flowers."

Not wasting any time, I picked up two pots and stood. "Help me carry these inside?"

He nodded and picked up four more. "I'll make the return rescue."

"No. I'll do it."

"_I'll_ do it."

I whipped around. "I can do it."

"Okay," he said. But I heard him say, "I'm still gonna do it, though" beneath his breath.

To my parents' dismay, we entered and made our own little storm on the kitchen carpet. The rainwater dripped off our soak clothes and made a large puddle. Forgetting to take off our muddy shoes, a trail was seen from the door to my bedroom door. Only then did I realize we still had our footwear on.

"Oops," I said.

"I can clean it up," he offered.

"No," I said, kicking off my shoes. "I can do it."

We both set down the wet pots onto my bare desk.

He nodded reluctantly. "Okay. So _you _clean up, and I'll get the pots. And then maybe we can hang out after," he smiled.

"Sorry, but I think I should go to bed—"

"ZELDA!" Mom screeched, obviously acknowledging the existence of muddy footprints on her nice hardwood floor. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway.

"And plus my Mom's angry right now and she's coming this way, so you should probably go—"

"_Zelda Seraphina Nohansen_. CLEAN THIS MESS UP – oh, hi Link!"

Stunned, Link smiled warmly and raised his hand in greeting. "Hi, Mrs. Nohansen."

"What were you guys up to? You're _soaked._"

"Rescuing flowers," he replied. "And gardening. I never knew your daughter had an interest in that sort of stuff."

"Zelda can surprise you at any given moment."

"Oh, I _know. _One moment she's happy and the next she gets mysteriously irritated and angry in the split of a second," he said, snapping his fingers. I didn't know whether it was sarcasm or not, but it hurt that he viewed me as bipolar, and made a joke out of it.

"Link was just leaving, Mom," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady.

"He should stay! Warm himself up a bit. Here, I'll make you guys some tea."

"He's _leaving." _I grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the bedroom door. "Right, Link?"

"I think I should clean up—"

I urged him through the door. "It's really late, and I can clean that mess up, so it's okay. Really."

He stared at me for a second, and I averted his gaze. It felt like eons before the smile wiped away from his face and he murmured, "Okay."

Once he left, I turned away from the door and sighed. Link was starting to get on my nerves with his eagerness and his smothering ways. It was charming at first, but it was starting to exhaust me.

* * *

**Hoped you liked it! It's not as good as the original, but I will post that sometime in the future again.**

**Anyway, I personally like the flower pot scene when they were little kids. So cute! ^.^ **


	9. Chapter 9

**Update: I have officially rewritten chapters 7, 8, and 9! YES! :D**

* * *

**~ 9 ~**

* * *

On Tuesday, I went through school with a pounding headache, a leaky nose, and a horrible cough. In each and every class, there were _zero _tissues, so I had to use the back of my hand. It was gross as the warm snot came out of my nose and onto my clean shirt. To make matters worse, everyone was talking around me. My headache grew into a migraine. It got to the point where, in third period, I jumped out of my seat and ran out of the room, each step piercing my head like a dagger.

"What the fuck's wrong with her?" huffed Misha, who was sitting at the back of the room. "The noise level isn't _that _bad."

As the doors closed behind me, the rest of the class started laughing. At least they were kind enough to keep their mouths' shut until I left the classroom, which was a first.

Footsteps echoed behind me. I turned around, surprised it wasn't Link.

"Hi, Mr Shad," I croaked.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked. "You don't look too good."

_Obviously. _"I think I've caught a cold." I wiped the snot forming at my upper lip. "And I've got this blazing headache. That's why I ran out of the classroom."

A look of disgust crossed his face as I sneezed. Snot and spit sprayed onto his nicely tailored jacket. He was frozen in place with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth twisted in a frown.

"Sorry," I muttered. "The consequences of not having a tissue, am I right?"

He ignored me and immediately took off his jacket like it was on fire. "Okay, Zelda. I'll write you a note of dismissal, and you can check out at the main office."

"Okay."

"I'll be back in a moment," he said, and returned to the classroom.

I waited patiently by the door, rubbing my temples to soothe the dull pain in my head. The door opened.

"That was fast—" I began to say, but halted when I saw it was Link.

"Hi." He hesitated. "You all right?"  
"Just peachy!" I winked, and attempted to make my voice two octaves higher. Ultimately it failed and ended with a loud croaking sound, which then turned into a coughing fit. It lasted forever until I took a breath and spat out the phlegm clogging my throat. "Really, I'm fine." I wheezed.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said. "Going out in cold weather."

"It was stupid, I know," I grumbled. "And I regret it now but at the time it seemed like such a good idea. Like you said, I should appreciate the beauty of rain and treat the cloudy days like sunny days. So what better way to do that than garden during a storm? I've got myself a nice green house, which will hopefully last the entire winter, and a good ol' cold that transforms me into a disgusting creature. And since I have this stupid cold, I get to embarrass myself with sneezing, being gross, and coughing like a frog. And it's all because of—"

The door opened, and Link quickly interrupted, "Bye, Zelda."

"Hey, _you!" _Shad shouted, halting Link from getting away. "You do _not_ use bathroom time to talk to your friends! I've got a kid who's nearly peed herself waiting for you!"

"I—"

"He was just seeing if I was okay," I said. "Honestly."

"Oh," he replied. "Still. Get back in the classroom, Link. I don't care if you still have to pee, Kili is whining about how small her bladder is and it's driving me nuts!"

Link opened the door, and before he entered the room, he turned around and met my eyes. "Bye, Zelda," he said again and waited for my response before leaving.

I looked at the floor, ashamed of my heated outburst, and mumbled, "Yeah, bye."

"Here," Shad's handwriting interrupted my pleasant view of brown and white tiles. "Take this to the office. Hope you get better soon," he abruptly said. Before I could say farewell, he turned on his heel and marched back into the classroom.

.

For the next few days, I was a prisoner to my own room. I never stepped out of its purple and green walls unless it was to use the washroom or for food. Too tired to do anything, I sat in my bed with my laptop and bags of chips, browsing a bunch of websites and catching up on TV shows. The pile of homework Link retrieved each day grew larger in stack. I know I should've ripped my eyes off of the computer screen and get to work, but thinking with a migraine was hard to handle.

And, much to my horror, Link visited me every day. Not to sound sour, I _did_ enjoy his visits, but I got nervous around him, which increased my heart rate, which in turn increased the constant throbbing and terrible pain in my head.

"Zelda!" Mom called at precisely 4 pm on Tuesday. "Link's here!"

"What?" I groaned, hiding under the covers. I didn't want him to see me in crumpled, pig pyjamas, tangled hair, and the worst halitosis ever!

"He's got some homework!" she called, and I heard their footsteps stomping up the stairs. "You go on up, Link."

I waited in dread for the door to open. When it did, I clung to the covers, and shifted so my back was facing away from the door.

I felt something soft land near the base of the bed.

"Mr Shad asked if someone would take these home for you, and no one volunteered, so I thought I should do it," he said. "And, since I'm in all your classes and such a wonderful friend, I decided to get all your missed homework for today."

He sat in silence. "You're welcome, by the way."

He waited for a reply. I said nothing.

"You know, I can tell you're awake."

I remained silent. Then I flinched as his hand laid on my shoulder, and I jolted upright, nearly knocking my head against his.

"Woah! Easy there!" he cried.

"Sorry!" I muttered, then felt the heat rush to my face. I immediately returned under the covers.

"I hope you get better soon," he said. "You're going to get _a lot _of homework. Shad's ruthless, Renado is speeding through Freud—"

"Remember. I have _two _professional psychologists in the house. I think I can consult them."

"What?"

"I have two—"

"Sorry, I can't hear you. The covers are muffling your voice."

Sighing, I whipped the covers off of my face and sat up. "I SAID MY MOM AND DAD ARE PSYCHOLOGISTS."

"What?" he asked again, his hand cupping one side of his ear to achieve maximum volume.

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did. I was hoping to make a joke out of it."

"Your quest to make me laugh failed." I huffed, falling back into my pillow…which made that throbbing headache even worse from the quick whiplash! I growled and massaged my head. "Why can't this stupid headache go away?!"

"You know what, Zel, I'm going to nurse you back to health," he said firmly. "Seeing you like this – miserable, enraged, ill – is making me really, really, _really _guilty. After all, I _am _the one who presented the argument of cold weather is perfectly fine."

"It's partly my fault," I mumbled. "It was my decision to go out there and rescue those ugly flowers."

"Oh, they aren't _that _ugly. They look beautiful even when they're half-drowned."

His constant blabbering was starting to irritate me. I just wanted to sleep off the headache rather than hear someone talking.

"Link."

"Yeeesss?" he answered immediately, and he started tucking me in.

"I'm going to sleep. G'night."

"Over-sleeping is bad for you. If you take more than twenty minute naps a day, your headache will increase."

"Yeah, well, I'm _tired." _I said firmly, turning my back away from him and into the light of the window. It hurt my eyes, but I wanted him to take the hint. I wanted to be alone. "Good night."

"Okay. I'll be here if you need anything." He said, and closed the curtains and the ceiling light. He dragged a chair to the other side of the bed. "I'm determined to get the healthy Zelda back."

I said nothing and closed my eyes. If he wanted to watch me sleep, whatever. I had no energy left to argue.

After five minutes of trying to fall asleep, I still felt his presence lingering. I turned around, and saw that the chair was partially empty. On it, in messy writing, was a sign with the words 'be back soon.'

I couldn't help but smile at the charming message.

* * *

**PS: this chapter is only half-finished...I plan on extending it.**


End file.
